RusAme Drabbles
by PurplePatchwork
Summary: A series of drabbles about Russia/America, all with different ratings and some in different AUs.
1. Table of Contents

This is just a series of RusAme drabbles, all with different ratings and in different AUs.

You will find a table of contents here, and a short summary at the beginning of each drabble.

Some things will be extremely short, others might be a bit longer.

Enjoy!

1\. _Beast_ (M)

2\. _Supermarket_ (K+, human AU)

3\. _Neck_ (M)

4\. _Cheburashka_ (K+)

5\. _Cold Hands_ (K)

6\. _Little Spoon_ (K)

7\. _Handsome Stranger (_ T, human AU)

8\. _I Can't Let You Do That_ (T, zombie apocalypse AU)

9\. _I Didn't Know You Could Sing_ (K+)

10\. _You Can Cry if You Want to_ (K+)

11\. _You Don't Need to Protect Me_ (T)

12\. _Drunken Love (_ K+)

13\. _I Won't Say I'm in Love_ (M)

14\. _I Love You More Than Vodka_ (T)

15\. _History Hurts_ (K+)

16\. _Missing You_ (K+)

17\. _Dance With Me_ (K+)

18\. _Flying_ (K, human AU)

19\. _Good Enough_ (K+, human AU)

20\. _A Man's Love Goes Through His Stomach_ (K+, human AU)

21\. _A Kiss Should Suffice_ (M)

22\. _Putty in My Hands_ (T)

23\. _Tongue-Tied_ (K+) & _Happy Birthday_ (K+)

24\. _Temper_ (K+)

25\. _Don't Touch Me_ (M)

26\. _Oh Fuck_ (M, human AU)

27\. _Spiderman_ (K+)

28\. _Temptation_ (T, human AU)

29\. _Phantom Families_ (T, human AU)

30\. _Come here_ (T, human AU)

31\. _Missed You Babe_ (T)

32\. _Maybe_ (K+)

33\. _Trust_ (T, human and monster AU)

34\. _Mr Fluffy_ (K)

35\. _Christmas Sweaters_ (K)

36\. _Seeing Red_ (T, vampire AU)

37\. _Singing In The Rain_ (K+)

38\. _Can You Hear Me?_ (T)

39\. _Prank_ (K)

40\. _Jealous?_ (K+, human AU)

41\. _My Milkshake Brings All the Boys_ (K+, coffee shop AU)

42\. _I'm Right Here_ (T, human AU)

43. _The United States of Alfred_ (K)

44\. _Romeo, Oh Romeo_ (T, human AU)

45\. _At Last_ (T)

46\. _Little Birdie_ (K, wingtalia AU)

47\. _Distractions of the Phallic Variant_ (M)

48\. _Sunflowers and Blood-Curling Screams_ (K+, human AU)

49\. _Unfair_ (K)

50\. _Hair_ (K, Nyo!RusAme, college AU)

51\. _Aerobics_ (T, Nyo!RusAme, human AU)

52\. _Handcuffed_ (T)


	2. Beast

Beast

 **Alfred is not as innocent as he seems.**

 **Rated M.**

~o~

"You know you want it," the Russian purred, sliding his nose along the other's jawline before moving up and wrapping his lips around the tip of Alfred's ear.

"Fuck you," the American hissed.

Yet he couldn't keep the rush of excitement from washing over him at being pinned down like he was by the taller man, arms and legs restrained, letting Ivan ravish and abuse his body as he pleases. His breath hitched when the Russian pinched a nipple, before slowly clawing his way down, leaving clear red marks for the world to see.

"Do not lie to me, little one," Ivan whispered, blazing violet locking with electric blue.

"You need me. How else can you satisfy the darkness in your heart?"

And Alfred could do nothing but moan unabashedly as Ivan bit down on his shoulder, slipping a large hand beneath his waistband.

For it was true. He wasn't the golden boy everyone made him out to be. He needed Ivan, and Ivan needed him.

If only to feed the beast that lay slumbering inside.


	3. Supermarket

Supermarket

 **Flirting at the supermarket.**

 **Rated K+.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

Ivan hated going to the supermarket. The air was too dry, the lights too bright, the people too pushy. It was noisy and sweaty and just uncomfortable. It didn't help that every summer new cashiers showed up, seemingly getting grumpier with each passing year. Today appeared to be no different.

After finally escaping the stuffy aisles with the desired groceries neatly tucked away in his basket, he noticed an unfamiliar blob of blond at the only available cash register. Mentally rolling his eyes, the tall man prepared himself for chewing gum, brisk handling of his items, and a gruff and very bored voice nosily conveying to him how much he owed the only store in town that was open 24/7.

What Ivan didn't expect was for the blond to grin widely at him, all flashing of brilliant white spotless ivory and energetic blue eyes.

"Evening sir!" he said, perhaps a tad too loud in the cramped checkout area, but definitely more welcome than the rude stares he usually got.

Ivan blinked, then remembered how to speak English.

"Ah- good evening."

He started unloading his basket onto the conveyor belt, the cashier's eyes never leaving him. It quickly grew unnerving, and Ivan hesitantly smiled up at the boy, hoping he would take a hint and do what the store actually paid him to do.

"Sooooooooo, you often come here?" the teen began, finally scanning his canned food and bottles of Smirnoff vodka - the only brand this store sold.

"I do," Ivan allowed, muttering a quiet "thank you" under his breath when the boy began placing his purchases in a sturdy plastic bag.

"Well, you should come more often from now on! Don't wanna miss seeing those pretty eyes of yours. That 26 dollars 69 for you."

"Excuse me?" Ivan deadpanned, staring at the excited teen with raised eyebrows and a faint pink dusting his cheeks.

"That's how much you have to pay," the boy laughed with a wink, and Ivan frowned deeply as he rooted through his pockets for his wallet. After handing the other the right amount of bills, he sheepishly waited for the ticket to print and the boy to put it in his bag. He didn't miss the other writing something down before placing the ticket between his groceries.

"The name's Alfred by the way. If you don't want to get that big schnoz of yours bitten off by my colleagues, just come buy your things at Saturday from now on. I promise you I'll be a lot more fun than the other employees big guy!"

Ivan never left a store in such a hurry as he did tonight. Cheeks flushed, heart pounding, hand trembling as he fished out the piece of paper and saw the number written there, along with a short message.

 _In case you want some real customer service!_

 _xxx To Mr. Sexy Purple Eyes_

What was with that boy? No one had ever flirted so openly with him!

Yet he had never called someone within two hours after receiving their number either.


	4. Neck

Neck

 **Ivan's neck is said to be very sensitive.**

 **Rated M.**

~o~

Ivan moaned as Alfred licked at his neck, getting rid of the spilled orange juice with swift swipes of his hot, wet tongue.

The American took this noise as an encouragement and suckled on the sensitive flesh, nipping at it and sliding his lips over the surface.

Ivan felt his limbs go weak and tried to back away, but Alfred stopped him with a languish lick, dragging his skilled muscle from collarbone to jawline. Ivan's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed heavily, darkened eyes staring lustfully at his assaulter.

Alfred grinned up at him, teasingly dragging his tongue across his lips.

"You should've told me sooner your neck is this sensitive, big guy. I could've done some _fun_ things with it."

And Alfred laughed when Ivan tackled him to the ground.


	5. Cheburashka

Cheburashka

 **Ivan has some embarrassing pyjamas to show, according to him at least.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

Ivan had made a horrible mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.

He and Alfred were currently in a hotel in Paris, spending the night there after another World Meeting. It would be one of their first nights just sleeping together, no sex. They had to do this because paranoid little Alfred had gotten it into his head that the perverted Frenchman installed cameras in all the hotel rooms to try and catch some interesting footage. Not only that, he simply didn't feel like doing it in France. Not yet at least.

That wasn't the problem though. What was a problem, was that Ivan had forgotten which pyjamas he packed. Alfred had called to inform him of the new room arrangements after his suitcase was already closed, after all. And it was only now that Ivan remembered.

Standing in his nude in the bathroom connected to their room, door locked, he stared at the mirror with a look that screamed pure and utter horror as he held up the Cheburashka pyjamas he had brought with him.

He couldn't possible put that on. Not after teasing Alfred about all his superhero and Spongebob underwear. He would die of embarrassment if Alfred teased him about it.

A knock on the door.

"You all right there big guy? You're taking way too long dude!"

"Ah, no problem here! I was just finishing up!"

"Okay…"

Ivan sighed, mentally slapping himself. He had to put them on. It was that or go naked, which wasn't an option as Alfred reminded him of the no-sex rule at least thrice that day (making Ivan wonder if he was secretly incredibly prude).

Swallowing his pride, he pulled on the pants, the shirt over his head. At least they weren't the pink fluffy ones he had gotten from Ukraine or his sunflower pyjamas, which he only wore on really dreary and dark days so as not to wear out the fabric too fast. These clothes were decent, they just had the face of his favourite cartoon creature printed all over the surface.

He changed the bandages on his neck before taking in a deep breath and opening the door, peeking through the slit. Alfred was already lying under the covers, smiling up at him once a beam of light fell from the bathroom.

"Finally! It's getting cold in here, I need somebody to cuddle with!"

"D-da…"

Ivan switched off the lights and quickly dropped to the floor, crawling around the bed so Alfred couldn't see him.

"Uh… What are you doing babe?"

Ivan said nothing as he stealthily slipped under the covers, immediately pulling them up to his chin. Alfred was staring at him with a curious expression, blue eyes visible even in the darkness of the room.

"Nothing. Go to sleep dorogoy."

Alfred rolled onto his side, frowning at the other.

"Nuh uh. You're hiding something. I can tell."

"Nyet. Just sleepy."

Ivan demonstratively closed his eyes, faking being very exhausted. His eyes shot open again when Alfred suddenly pulled the covers away, unveiling the source of his shame.

Ivan lay there in shock for a full minute, Alfred simply staring. Then the younger burst into laughter.

"D-dude! _Dude_! What the hell are those cute jammies?!"

Ivan instantly flushed, arms shooting up to cover his chest as he pouted.

"They are not cute."

"Yes they are!" Alfred giggled. "What, you didn't want me to see this? Is that why you were acting all 007? Dude, that's adorable! Just look at you with your little bear-child-thingy!"

"He is not a bear-child-thingy," Ivan hissed, getting the feeling he should have gone for no clothes after all. "He is a creature unknown to science. And if you continue to laugh, I am going to sleep somewhere else."

As Ivan made to sit and get off the bed, Alfred captured him and pulled him back down, still laughing. The tall nation yelped as the blond pulled him in, placing a peck on his supersize nose.

"Nah, I'm just gushing over how cute you're acting! What, can't I say that about my boyfriend?"

Ivan flushed further, looking anywhere but at the widely smirking American.

"I am not cute…" he mumbled, wishing he still had his scarf to bury his face in.

"Yes you are," Alfred sighed, as he swung a leg over Ivan's hips and curled up around him. "And I'm definitely getting you more of that bear-child-thingy if it makes you act like that."


	6. Cold Hands

Cold Hands

 **Alfred does not want Ivan to catch him. Not one single bit.**

 **Rated K.**

~o~

"No! Stay away from me, you ass!"

"Oh Alfreeeeeeeeeeed~" came the voice of the devil.

The shriek that was heard next could only be described as the most unmanly thing. Ever.

Alfred raced up the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him, heart thumping in its house and breath flying in and out his lungs. The sound of heavy footsteps warned him that the other was getting closer.

Alfred sprinted through an unfamiliar hallway, eyes frantically shooting left and right, desperately searching for an escape route. Why oh why was Russia's house so freakishly immense?! He had come here quite a number of times, and still he found himself getting lost whenever he went exploring. Which wasn't exactly desirable considering his current situation.

Alfred rounded a corner, then skidded to a halt.

Dead end. No escape for the tortured souls.

Alfred slowly turned around, looking absolutely mortified. Ivan was standing right behind him, grin wicked and hands curled into predatory claws.

"Found you, dorogoy."

Alfred screamed as Ivan pulled him into a hug, slipping those claws for hands under his shirt.

They.

Were.

FREEZING!

"Noooooooooooooooo! Coldcoldcoldcold-"

Ivan laughed.

Alfred squirmed and struggled, desperately trying to get away.

And Ivan laughed.

That heartless monster.


	7. Little Spoon

Little spoon

 **Ivan wants to be the little spoon for once.**

 **Rated K.**

~o~

"Okay big guy, what's up?"

Alfred rolled around to face Ivan, letting out a sigh. His boyfriend had been spooning him for the last half hour or so, just like he did almost every night, but for some reason Ivan couldn't stop squirming and moving around this night.

The Russian was blushing, eyebrows scrunched together as he looked away.

"I wanted to ask you something…"

Alfred propped himself up on an elbow, letting out a drowsy yawn.

"Sure. What is it?"

Ivan locked eyes with him for a second, then looked away as his blush intensified.

"I… Never mind. Is not important."

Alfred dropped a hand on Ivan's head, tousling his platinum locks.

"Come on Ivan. If you say A, you gotta say B too. We are not going to sleep before you tell me what's wrong."

Ivan curled into himself, actually succeeding in making his broad figure seem small.

"…itlle spoon…"

Alfred bent over, bringing his ear to the other's lips.

"Come again? I won't bite."

Ivan shut his eyes, fingers nervously playing with his sleeve.

"I-I… I wanted to ask you if I could be the little spoon for once… I have never done it before, but it seems nice."

When Alfred remained silent, shocked by his lover's unexpected request, Ivan opened his eyes, frantically trying to take back his words.

"Ah- you do not have to, just forget about it. It was just a silly joke, I do not need it. To believe you actually fell for that, you are really-"

"Okay."

Ivan's mouth instantly snapped shut, eyes widening as realization hit him. Alfred grinned excitedly as he climbed over his boyfriend, ignoring the groans when he accidentally kneed him in the stomach. Ivan was already starting to regret his decision when Alfred reached his back. Then he tensed.

The American pushed himself flush against Ivan's back, following the curve of his spine from tip to tail bone. Entangling their legs, snaking an arm around the taller man's waist to rest it protectively across his chest. Snuggling up to his snowy hair, placing a soft reassuring kiss on his shoulder blade.

"If you want to be held, you just have to say so," he whispered, waiting for the other to relax in his hold.

Ivan's heart hammered against his ribs as he felt the presence of a miniature sun behind him, around him, holding him with tenderness and care. Allowing himself to bask in the other's warmth, find comfort in the loving action.

Ivan sighed quietly, not admitting just how much he liked being held like this. Big spoon, little spoon, as long as it was Alfred, anything was a wonderful new experience to him.

And right before he fell asleep, his hand crawled up to Alfred's smaller one and intertwined their fingers, accepting the generous gift.


	8. Handsome Stranger

Handsome Stranger

 **See what happens when a shy Russian goes to drown his sorrows in a bar after a bad break-up, and meets a handsome stranger there instead.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

Ivan couldn't keep his eyes off the handsome stranger sitting at the other end of the bar.

He had been sitting here for half an hour, drowning himself in booze after hearing from his sister that his current boyfriend – or perhaps ex-boyfriend was a better term now – had been screwing around behind his back. Instead of facing his problems he'd just gone straight to the bar, desperate to take his mind off things.

That was when this guy came in. All healthy tan and toothpaste commercial white teeth, flagging the bartender for a glass of whiskey. He nodded pleasantly at Ivan before sitting down, and since then they hadn't made eye-contact again.

Yet Ivan couldn't look away from him. There were several chairs between their bodies, but he could still hear the other's pleasant accent perfectly well as he chatted with the bartender, made jokes about his work as if he were a regular.

Ivan was just intoxicated enough to consider actually going over there and start flirting with this stranger. But he knew he wouldn't do that. He had never been the one to take the initiative in a relationship. Maybe that was why his ex had decided to go looking for someone more proactive…

He stared miserably at his glass, rolling it around between well-defined fingers. Why did he have to be so goddamn shy? He was broad and tall, intimidating to most. Yet the moment he had to open his mouth, that was where it all went wrong. He wasn't good with words. Or with feelings, or relationships, or with people in general.

He had so much love to give. But it was so very useless, since he had no idea _how_ to give it.

He sniffed and dragged a hand under his nose, only now noticing the tears prickling dangerously at the corners of his eyes.

Oh no. He couldn't cry. Not here, not with all these people. He already felt pathetic enough as it is.

"Hey, you okay?"

The voice startled him so badly he jerked back a little, staring at the stranger with wide eyes as he stared right back. He shivered a little when those frighteningly blue eyes looked him over, genuine concern in them.

"Ah, no, I am fine…"

"Bullshit," the other cut him off. Downing the rest of his whiskey in one go, he hopped off his chair and slid right next to Ivan.

The Russian tensed, heart beating in his throat.

"You can talk to me if you want to. Ah, sorry if I seem a bit rude," he laughed a bit awkwardly, scratching at his lightly freckled nose, "but you seem too nice to be so down. Of course, it's none of my business, buuuut…"

Ivan allowed a shaky smile to slip through his defences, before he looked back down at his hands.

"Ah, no, it is okay. But it is really nothing, just some personal problems."

"Girlfriend dumped ya?" the other asked bluntly, making Ivan wince.

"Oh sorry, that was incredibly rude, I-"

"Nyet," Ivan whispered. "Boyfriend."

There. He said it. Ivan closed his eyes shut, waiting anxiously for the other to start calling him names, be disgusted by him, perhaps even angry. When nothing came, he hesitantly glanced back at the stranger.

"Sorry to hear that buddy. He didn't hurt you too much, did he? I remember my last boyfriend, he was a real bitch in those final weeks before I broke it off. I'm Alfred by the way, haven't introduced myself yet."

"Ah- I am Ivan." A confused pause. "Did you say you were…"

"Gay? Well, that's basically what it means to have a boyfriend. But enough about me, you're the one trying to get drunk in some bar."

"Is it that obvious?" Ivan asked, smiling wryly at his shoes.

"Kinda."

And then suddenly, Alfred was leaning forward, bringing his mouth to Ivan's ear. His hot breath tickled as he spoke.

"If I have to go talk some sense into him, just say so. I'm free tonight anyway. And I think you look a lot better with a smile on your face."

Ivan instantly flushed red, nonsensical words stumbling out of his mouth. When Alfred pulled back, he too was blushing profoundly.

"Ah shit, I guess I drank a lot more than I thought… Please don't think I'm a creep or something, I just say really cheeky stuff when I get drunk-"

Before Alfred could further embarrass himself, Ivan decided to finally do something brave. Maybe it was the vodka, maybe it was the whirlpool of emotions caused by his heartbreak, but he suddenly found a hint of bravado he didn't even knew he had in him.

"You- You said you were free tonight?"

Alfred instantly stopped blabbering.

"Yeah?"

His next words came out so fast his tongue had difficulty keeping up with them.

"Do you, do you want to go eat something? Food works best against alcohol…"

Shit, why did he have to say that? Take it back, take it back-

"Y-yeah! Sure!" Alfred yelped, once more flashing that big grin of his.

Ivan couldn't decide if he was more attractive as the mysterious charmer or the flustered puppy.

What he did know, was that his heart had never felt like it could explode just by someone grabbing his hand, slapping a few bills down on the counter, dragging him out of the bar, and placing a bold kiss on his cheek before heading to their next destination.


	9. I can't let you do that

I can't let you do that

 **When living in a world with zombies, harsh decision must be made sometimes.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Zombie Apocalypse AU.**

 **Contains: Character death.**

~o~

Two bodies stumbled inside, the youngest slamming the door shut behind him. They could hear grumbled roars outside, the filthy squelching of rotting flesh permeating the air.

Ivan let himself slide down the wall, panting from the previous struggle. Alfred was by his side in a flash, poking and prodding and checking for any injuries.

"The door will not hold," Ivan warned, hissing when the blond hit a sensitive spot.

When Alfred went uncharacteristically quiet, Ivan looked up at him. The teen's face read utter terror.

"No. No, nonononono-"

"What is wrong?" Ivan inquired, scrunching his eyebrows together when the other scurried away. "Alfred?"

"You were bitten."

It was only then that Ivan took notice of the wound on his arm, blood oozing from it in unhealthy gushes. In an instant the younger was back at his side, smothering him in a hug. The monsters outside roared again, the house shaking with effort to keep them from coming in.

"Alfred," Ivan said, swallowing his upcoming hysteria, "you know what has to happen."

"No," the teen sobbed, hot tears dripping down into the Russian's ragged scarf.

"I can't do it."

"You have to." He tried making his voice stern and soothing all the same, his heart breaking at the pitiful display in front of him.

"You cannot let me turn, Fedka. We promised that to each other."

"But how am I supposed to kill you? You're my only friend! Please, Ivan. Don't leave me. I just can't let you do that. I need you. Without you, I-"

"You will find others," the older man interrupted him. He had to do his best not to crack as well, knowing it was a filthy lie. He and Alfred had found each other more than a month ago, and hadn't encountered another living being ever since.

Still, Alfred had to live. Had to survive. Ivan simply needed him to. Without that little ray of sun, the world was doomed.

With shaking hands he pulled his rifle out, pushing it into the other's grasp. The transformation was already starting, he could feel it slipping into his veins.

Bringing broken lips to Alfred's ear, he pleaded one final time.

"Please, Alfred. For me…"

One more sob, and suddenly there was a warm mouth covering his own, and he could taste the pain and desperation. The house creaked again, and Ivan knew they didn't have much longer.

Pulling away, he placed a trembling hand on Alfred's cheek.

"For me."

Alfred swallowed and took a few steps back. His amazingly blue eyes never left his companion, and when he took aim his entire figure shook. He was so much like a frightened animal, but Ivan needed him to do this.

Right before pulling the trigger, their eyes crossed. Ivan nodded, and Alfred mouthed three words he never had the courage to say.

Then there was only darkness.


	10. I didn't know you could sing

I didn't know you could sing

 **Ivan learns about Alfred's singing talents.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

Alfred hummed along with the song that started on the radio as he turned on the shower head, jumping when he was caught by a blast of cold water before it switched to the right temperature.

"Hmhmhmh~"

Swaying his hips, he grabbed a bottle of shampoo and squirted some onto his hand. The music intensified while he rubbed the goo into his hair, and so did his movements and noises.

When he started to wash the shampoo out again, he fully burst into song.

"And aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiyeahaaaaaaaaaai, will always love youuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhohohooooooooooow!"

"I did not know you could sing."

Alfred let out an anything but manly shriek when the amused rumble of Ivan's voice filled the bathroom, the bottle he'd been using as a microphone slipping from his hand. He glanced over his shoulder with flushed cheeks, finding Ivan leaning into the shower, devoid of any clothing.

"I was thinking about joining you, but perhaps you would rather finish your performance first?"

Ivan laughed as he barely dodged the sponge flicked at his face.

"S-shut up! You're not getting in here if you only want to mock me."

Ivan's smile softened, and he ignored Alfred's protests while clambering into the bathtub.

"Would I ever lie to you?"

He pulled the struggling American into his arms, pressing a kiss to his ear, giggling when Alfred gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow.

"Now, if you would please continue your lovely aria? I need background music when I am going to scrub your back."

This time, Alfred accidentally (or not so accidentally) squirted shampoo into Ivan's eyes.


	11. You can cry if you want to

You can cry if you want to

 **Even Russia cries sometimes.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

Ivan was a silent crier. He didn't usually do it, but when his emotions finally got the better of him it mostly went by unnoticed. The only result was the red puffiness of his eyes, but no one dared to make a comment on it due to his intimidating demeanour.

Today was another one of those days.

Sitting in the meeting room, he couldn't help but overhear two nations gossip about him. Usually he would've just gotten up, went over there, and bashed their faces in with his beloved pipe.

But then he heard them call him a rapist.

And that particular jab struck a wrong cord.

Not only because it was a filthy lie, but because it made him realize just how lowly the others thought of him. He tried to swallow the hot coal that appeared in his throat, carefully keeping his gaze on the speaker in front of the room.

As soon as the twenty minute break was announced, Ivan wasted no time in standing up and leaving the room as fast as possible. While most went to the break room, the bathroom, or outside for a smoke or some fresh air, Ivan searched for an empty office to use as his quiet sanctuary.

He fled inside, the words from earlier tumbling through his mind. Before he could allow himself to break down though, the door opened again behind him.

It was Alfred, staring at the tall nation with an unrecognizable expression.

"Amerika?" Ivan breathed, not taking notice of the treacherous tears gathering at the bottom of his eyes.

Alfred looked left and right, biting his lip before speaking up. He stared Ivan dead in the eye while doing so.

"Don't listen to them. Don't listen to _anything_ they say, not a single word. Because they're wrong ,and you know it."

Ivan stumbled backwards, bringing a hand to his mouth so he could dig his teeth into the knuckles.

He wasn't going to cry in front of Alfred. Anyone but him. Please…

The American seemed to read his mind, as his expression suddenly softened. With a few determined strides he reached the other, pulling him into a crushing hug. Then he brought his lips to Ivan's ear.

"It's okay big guy. You can cry if you want to."

Ivan had no idea why Alfred was doing this. Was it pity? Some kind of trick? A bet he lost perhaps?

…It couldn't possibly be compassion, could it?

He didn't deserve compassion. Didn't want it, didn't need it.

Not at all.

Yet as the violent tremors ripped through his body, the silent tears slipping away, he could only cling to the smaller nation with all the strength he had left in his useless arms.


	12. You don't need to protect me

You don't need to protect me

 **Alfred mentally prepares himself to face his family, while Ivan is there by his side.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Contains: cross-dresser Alfred.**

~o~

Alfred once more looked in the mirror, uncertain whether or not this was a good idea. He let his hands wander down, over the silk-like fabric of the navy blue dress. It fell just short of his knees and was only a little tight around his chest.

Ivan snuck up behind him, placing his hands around the other's waist. He swiftly pecked the tip of his ear before laying his head on Alfred's shoulder. Together they breathed in and out, Alfred smiling when Ivan buried his nose in wheat-coloured hair.

"Do not be afraid dorogoy. You look absolutely stunning."

"Yeah?" Alfred laughed, though his voice was a bit shaky. "It's just that I never told them. My parents and Mattie know of course, but my nephews… uncles and aunts… Jack, Peter… oh God, what will granny say?"

Ivan kissed his cheek, softly swaying the smaller around in his loving hold.

"I will be there. If you feel uncomfortable, just say so and I will bring us home right away. I do not want my sunflower to be unhappy."

Alfred smiled, stroking the hand on his hip.

"No. I don't want to lie anymore. They deserve to know. I have to tell them."

He leant back into the other's chest, letting Ivan place soft kisses along his exposed neck.

"It's okay babe. You don't need to protect me."

"Are you sure?" Ivan asked softly, but the grin was audible in his voice.

If there was one thing he knew about Alfred, it was that the stubborn American was one of the strongest human beings he'd ever met.

"Absolutely. As long as you just stay by my side, I won't give up."

And Ivan kissed him one last time, showing all the love he felt for that brave man.


	13. Drunken Love

Drunken Love

 **Ivan drinks a bit too much and decides to call his boyfriend.**

 **Rated K+.**

 **Contains: alcohol mentions, very silly Ivan.**

~o~

"Y'ello, Alfred speaking."

"Fedyaaaaaaaa!" whined a high-pitched giggly voice.

Alfred had to hold the receiver away from his ear, frowning at the thing.

"…Ivan? Is this you?"

"Fedya, Fedya, I just watched your film of that king of lions. There are TSARS looking down at me dorogoy, TSARS." Then in a whisper, "What if they saw us doing the dirty thingies?"

Alfred had difficulty figuring out whether he should blush, groan, or laugh hysterically. He decided upon doing everything at once.

"Big guy, are you drunk?" he wheezed, clutching his stomach as he heard the other hum something that vaguely resembled Hakuna Matata.

" _Nyet, nyet_! I only had ten bottles, is not enough to get me drunk!" Ivan huffed with fake indigence. "But _podsolnechnik_ , I really do not want Yekaterina watching us. It would be sooooooooooooo embarrassing!"

"Vanya, you know it's just a movie right?" Alfred chuckled.

A gasp of horror.

"How can you say that?! Do you not care about little orphan Simba?"

"I do, but-"

"How could you Fedya! I will not date a child hater!"

And with that the call was ended.

Alfred stared at his phone with a look of both shock and amusement. He figured it would be better to try and call him back the next morning.

…

At around 5 AM, his phone went again.

"… _Dorogoy_? Did I… Did I say anything weird last night?"

"Oh Ivan," Alfred laughed. "You have no idea."


	14. I won't say I'm in love

I won't say I'm in love

 **Alfred will never admit he has the hots for a certain Russian hunk.**

 **Rated M.**

~o~

"Goddammit!"

Alfred quickly ran into the nearest toilet stall to hide. He weakly clutched the fabric of his vest, heart thumping against his ribs.

"I am not in love with Ivan Braginsky. I am not in love with Ivan Braginsky. _I am not in love with_ -"

He quickly cut himself off when he heard the door to the bathroom opening. Holding his breath, he listened to the sound of heavy footsteps, a zipper being undone, and then the tssssssss of- well, you know. Alfred swallowed, wishing the intruder away with his entire being.

He hadn't known about his infatuation for that long. It started several weeks ago, when the Russian smiled at him. Just a simple little thing, not that different from his usual creepy grins. Yet for some reason it had drawn him in, those leering amethysts captivating him like nothing had done before. Confused and disorientated he turned away when Ivan cocked an eyebrow, excusing himself before trotting off.

He began noticing new things the weeks after that. How Ivan would bury that oversized nose of his in his scarf whenever he giggled or was uncomfortable about something. How his hair curled slightly next to his ears, hiding the slightest hint of ashen blond sideburns. The deep rumble in his voice, the pleasant breathlessness of his genuine laughter. The elegant way with which he moved his broad and tall figure around, how his finger pads were callused but his fingers fine and bony. The soft belly he tried to hide behind oversized coats and jackets, the amazing muscled thighs hidden by slacks and tight-fitting trousers.

' _Shut up!'_ Alfred berated himself, feeling a blush coming up when he thought about all those little things.

He could not be in love with Ivan. That was simply impossible! He was Alfred F. Jones, he didn't have time for silly crushes on guys who were totally not hot or attractive at all, no siree, not one single bit! He definitely didn't have a thing for sexy accents or eyes that made your pants become just a tad too tight or a cruel but actually hilarious sense of humour or-

"Aargh!"

Forgetting there was still someone outside he burst through the door, cheeks tainted a permanent crimson and jeans feeling very uncomfortable around his crotch.

And of course, because the fates were just out to get him today, he had to run straight into the one guy he was trying to avoid at all costs.

"Alfred? Is something wrong?"

Ivan giggled as he captured the other's wrist, holding his arms up like some freakin' douchebag (a sexy douchebag- NO!)

"N-nothing! I'm just leaving, so could you please let go of me?" Alfred stuttered, trying in vain to keep his legs together.

Ivan's eyes wandered down over his captured prey, and for a moment he stilled, eyes widening in surprise. Then that all-knowing smirk returned, the taller man bending over to the point where their faces were mere inches apart.

"It seems you have a little problem _, kotyonok_. Would you mind if I helped you with that?"

Alfred could have fainted from the heat at that moment, yelping when Ivan dragged his nose along Alfred's jawline.

"N-no! Don't touch me you pervert!"

Ivan pouted, expression going from sexy to – if Alfred had to be honest – the most erotic look someone had ever sported in the history of hotness.

"But I thought you liked me little one?"

"I do not-"

"Because I can tell you that I like you."

Alfred was instantly silenced, a strange fluttering making itself known in his stomach. Taking his stunned silence as an encouragement, Ivan leant in again, long eyelashes brushing over Alfred's cheek and his nose tipping the other's glasses askew.

"So please, do me the honour?"

"I-I…"

Alfred honestly didn't know what to say, never having imagined his crush would return his feelings.

"You love me. This is true, _da_?"

The Russian let go of one wrist, using his free hand to draw circles on Alfred's still-present arousal. Alfred swallowed, making his decision, before glaring at the most definitely unsexy man.

"I don't care what you think this is," he hissed, bending over so their lips brushed, "but I won't say I'm in love."

And Ivan laughed softly as the American captured his mouth in a passionate kiss.


	15. I love you more than Vodka

I love you more than Vodka

 **When Ivan gets drunk, it's up to Alfred to bring him back to the hotel.**

 **Rated T.**

~o~

"You have to bring him back."

"No way, you do it! He's not my responsibility."

"Not mine either!"

The two bickering nations were interrupted when a third entered the bar, loud jingle introducing his arrival. America instantly spotted them and grinned, coming straight for their booth.

"Hiya you guys! You two out for drinks as well?"

France smiled charmingly while Prussia leant back in his seat. He rolled his beer around between two hands, letting the yellow liquid slosh to and fro.

"Well, we wouldn't be here otherwise smartass."

America held his hands up in a defensive gesture, frowning at the albino.

"Geez Gilbert, who got your panties in a twist?"

France gently placed a hand on his elbow and turned the younger around, making him take notice of the final nation present in the classy establishment. Russia was sitting at the bar, bear-like figure slouched forward and a gloomy impermeable aura surrounding him.

"What's up with the big guy?" America asked jokingly, yet his eyes honing in on the other.

"He's drunker than a skunk," Prussia informed him, shrugging.

France slammed his hand on the table, nearly making his companion jump out of the booth.

"Ah, Alfred! Perhaps you can take him back to his room? We were just discussing the fact that he is scaring the customers by drinking litres upon litres of vodka, so that would probably be for the better."

America finally broke his gaze away, giving France a confused pout.

"Why can't you do it? I just got here!"

"Because you are the only one who can keep him under control if he gets… moody."

Russia had several states of drunkenness. It took a lot to get him there, but once he did there was no turning back. From singing in Russian to depression to threatening people with his pipe, America had seen it all. He knew France was speaking the truth, him being the only one who could lift buffaloes even as a kid.

"Fine," he groaned, rolling his eyes in exaggerated fashion, "I'll do it. But you owe me one!"

" _Merci_!"

" _Danke schön_."

America carefully made his way over to the front of the bar so as not to trigger any form of violence. Russia had his head lying on the counter, not making any acknowledgment of the other's presence. The bartender stood in front of him, looking absolutely terrified.

"Everything okay here?" America asked, sending the young man a comforting smile.

"I keep telling him he's had enough, but he just keeps on drinking… If he continues like this I'll be out of vodka in no time! And I'm definitely not the one who's gonna look after him after we close."

"Don't worry," America reassured him, sliding into the seat next of his new charge, "I got him. He paid yet?"

"He gave me some foreign money, and I couldn't refuse but…"

America quickly placed some bills on the counter, making the guy's eyes almost bulge out of their sockets.

"Keep it. You deserved it dude."

"T-thank you sir!"

As the poor soul went to store away his money, America turned in his chair to face the Slavic nation. Russia still wasn't looking at him, but by the soft irritated mumbling America knew he wasn't asleep either.

"Sup big guy? You okay down there?"

Russia finally lifted his face from the cold marble, looking at the blond with bloodshot eyes.

"Go away," he moaned, flopping back down just as fast. "Leave me alone…"

Something in America's stomach twisted. He and Russia had had a long history together, after all. From a young and naïve friendship to rivals to… Whatever the hell they were supposed to be now. He had felt many things for that bear of a man, with his platinum blond hair and rumbling accent. Respect, admiration, rage, a kind of antagonism, the passion to compete against, a certain kinship, regret. Even harboured a crush for him back when he was younger.

But all that was in the past. And now… They weren't exactly friends yet, but they were working on it. Slowly trying to restore that spark they had before the Cold War, back when Russia guided him as a senior nation and he entertained the older with his enthusiasm and drive to learn. Back when they trusted each other.

"Okay big guy. Time to get you back to your room. You still remember where you're staying?"

Russia looked at a spot somewhere in the distance, eyes unfocussed and lips drawn back petulantly. After a moment of thinking, he finally informed America of the address of his hotel.

"Good, that's where I'm staying. All right, Imma take you there straight away."

Russia struggled for only a few seconds before letting himself slump against the shorter nation, almost dragging both their bodies down in the process.

"Okay Ivan, it's not because I'm strong that you don't have to work with me. Unless you want me to carry you bridal-style, and I don't think that's very high up on your to-do list."

America managed to drag the dead weight outside, Russia humming something incomprehensible under his breath. Luckily for the both of them his hotel was only just around the corner, making the journey there not quite as much of a hassle as it could have been.

It was when they entered the almost empty lobby that his charge began acting up. Before America could stop him, two strong arms were suddenly flung around his waist, squeezing all the air out of him.

"I-Ivan!" the blond wheezed, trying to pry those clawed fingers loose.

And then even worse; he could hear a soft sniffing noise and trembling movements coming from the man pressed against his back. America groaned and quickly made his way over to the couch.

"Come on dude, don't do this to me. I'm not good with crying."

He sat down on the couch, Russia immediately curling up behind him like a giant feline – a Siberian tiger perhaps. America half-twisted his torso so he could reach an arm around to awkwardly pat the Russian on the head. The sniffing only intensified, shaky breaths revealing how much he tried to keep it in.

America sighed, sliding his fingers through those ashen blond locks – only now remembering how soft his hair actually was.

All of a sudden he was grabbed by the collar, and pulled down with a surprised yelp. Russia's mouth found his ear, hot breath tickling through the distressed noises.

"Where- where is Alfred?"

America blinked slowly, keeping his body completely still.

"Uh… right here?"

Russia shook his head, not making any sense as he continued.

"No, I have to find him, have to tell him- tell him that…"

That giant of a man buried his face in America's jacket, wetting it with salty tears and very much resembling a child. America still had no idea what this was all about, until the Russian spoke up once more.

"But he can't know, can't know the truth. Is a ssssssssssssecret."

America lowered his head, deciding to humour the other (and satisfy his own curiosity).

"What secret? I promise I won't tell him."

A loud sob, followed by the words he least expected to hear.

"You- you cannot tell him that I love him. Is a secret, _da_? He can't know, can't know…"

Another sob, and no more words as he once again hid against America's favourite leather jacket.

The whole world was silent for a little while, safe for the pathetic little noises escaping the largest nation on this planet.

Then, carefully, not daring to breath, America bent over and placed his arms around the other, pulling him into a hug. The young nation said nothing as he placed soothing kissed on top of Russia's scalp, uncharacteristically quiet.

"I won't tell him," he whispered, voice a tad hoarse and cracking at odd places.

"Thank you…" Russia answered, before successfully losing consciousness.

~o~

The next morning when Russia woke up, he found himself having a terrible headache. After drinking a few glasses of water, he tried to sleep the pain away, only to be once again disturbed by a knock at the door. Cursing the very existence of whoever was out there, he put on his bathrobe and went to check. He certainly did not expect a cheery American sheepishly waving at him, lopsided smile twisting one side of his mouth up.

"What are you doing here?" he sighed, rubbing his temples.

America huffed indignantly, instantly dropping the act of Mr. Nice Guy.

"Well sorry for being worried! I only came to check on you, see if you hadn't puked your guts out or anything."

Russia frowned, making the other even more impatient.

"You really don't think you were magically transported to your bed last night, did you?"

They stared at each other for a while, a faint blush slowly rising to the Russian cheeks.

"Ah… Apologies, I did not remember. …I did not do anything strange, right?

America's expression darkened for just a fraction of a second, then his eyes saddened. A secretive smile played around his lips, making Russia frown. Shaking his head so that Nantucket swung from side to side, he let out a breathy laugh.

"Nothing stranger than the usual. But eh…"

He looked up, looked him dead in the eye, and for some reason he now sported the most hopeful expression Russia had ever witnessed.

"But you forgot something. And I didn't think it decent enough to just take it from you, so I guess you'll have to give it to me now."

"Forgot… What are you talking about Alfred?"

And before he had any idea what was going on, America grabbed him by his scarf, dragged him down to eye-level and promptly planted plump lips upon his own. Russia was frozen in shock, eyes wide and mind an empty canvass. The kiss only lasted a short moment, long enough for America to get this out of his system, whatever it was, because he couldn't possibly…

Oh.

America quickly let go – quicker than Russia could respond to the much wanted touch – and let out an embarrassed laugh.

"Yeah, just thought I'd let you know that- uh, yeah, just- stuff. So, coffeeinanhourintherestaurantokaythenbyeseeyouthere!"

And then he skidded off, keeping his nose turned towards the floor and doing everything in his might not to pull at his hair.

Meanwhile Russia was still standing in his doorway, arms raised as if about to strangle someone, slowly letting the previous events sink in as his face turned bright red.


	16. History Hurts

History Hurts

 **Russia watches the Anastasia movie, but doesn't react like America thought he would.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

Russia didn't show up at the meeting that day. Which was extraordinarily peculiar, seeing as the wintry nation never missed a single meeting. He was usually one of the first to arrive, his tall figure an unmistakable presence. But not today.

"Has any of you received a message from him?" Germany asked, the others already filing out of the stuffy room.

He was met by a lot of "no"s and shaking of the heads.

"You don't think he might be sick?" Veneziano asked, worried for the other despite finding him a little scary at times.

"Russia? Sick?" came a loud and boisterous voice, America's head popping up from the sea of nations. He quickly elbowed his way through, stepping on some toes and laughing the insults away.

"Hey, you want me to go check on him or something? My boss just called me to say our plane doesn't leave until tomorrow, so I've got time."

Germany frowned. "I did not know you were concerned for his health."

America laughed a bit awkwardly, cheeks flushing a faint pink. Not many knew about his improving relationship with Russia, their Cold War antagonism already subdued to a mere memory of the past. (And definitely no one knew about how his heart beat just that bit faster whenever the other smiled at him.)

But that was why several hours later, America was standing in front of Russia's massive house. It was still the same old thing where he lived while being the Soviet Union, and even though it was much too big and empty for him now he couldn't get it over his heart to sell it. Too many memories, most painful, but still a part of his history.

America excitedly rang the bell, hopping up and down on the spot as he waited. And waited. And waited some more. He rang again, and a couple times more for good measure. Then he began knocking, before he was practically punching the door.

"Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiivaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, I know you're in there!"

Before he knew it, he had successfully punched a hole clean through the wood. Oops. Sometimes he really got carried away, hehe.

"Ivan? I'm coming in okay?"

Placing the wrecked door behind him and promising he would replace it, America strode right in as if he owned the place. He had been here quite a couple of times the last few years, so he was already familiar with the lay-out. Well, the lay-out of the most important rooms, as there were some places he just couldn't go without getting lost once or twice.

"Ivan? You in hereeeeeeeeee..."

The sunny blond found Russia bundled up under blankets and pillows on his couch, eyes red-rimmed and the TV showing white.

"Ivan? You sick or something?"

Russia didn't look at him, nor did he move. When he spoke, his voice sounded hoarse, as if he had been crying just a moment before.

"...How could you? Why would you do this to me?"

"Do this... Do what?"

Alfred once more looked around the room, and then he finally caught sight of the probable perpetrator. It was a DVD box with a very familiar print on the cover.

Anastasia. Aha.

"W-what do you mean?" he asked a bit sheepishly, not really seeing why a simply cartoon would cause the other such distress. If anything, Russia should be honored to have someone else make a movie about his country (even if half of the film didn't even take place in Russia, but those were minor little things).

"Why would you remind me of her?!" the ashen blond suddenly shouted, rising from his nest like a bear being awoken from its winter slumber. His lips were drawn back in a snarl, eyes furious.

"I-Ivan?"

The other reached him with a few swift strides, looming over the smaller nation with all the intimidation he could muster. But America could see through the facade- could see the hurt. He hadn't spent so much time getting to know him for nothing, after all.

"My little girl is dead, Alfred. Dead. She is not coming back. There is no fairy tale ending. And what you did with the other characters? Why, Alfred? WHY? Do you want to mock me?! Is this some attempt to change history?"

"Ivan!" America hissed, temporarily silencing the other. "Why would you ever think I would wanna mock you with this? I made this movie as something good, to give her another chance! To give a more positive outcome! Don't you see that? Doesn't it make you the least bit happy?"

Something broke in Russia's expression, and he stumbled to his chair to sag down like a bag of potatoes. Burying his face in his hands, he groaned quietly.

"You are living in a dream, little one. Can you not see the truth... I lost her so, so many years ago. And not only her, all of them. Why would you think I want to be reminded of that? I loved them more than anything, but I never want to think about that day again."

Alfred reached out, hesitated, stepped forward and placed a trembling hand on the other's broad shoulder. Ivan flinched, but didn't push him off.

"I'm so sorry, that wasn't what I was thinking at all when I made that... I just thought that, you've been through so much bad things, wouldn't it be nice if that changed? Wouldn't you wanna see her happy, and be happy yourself because of that? I- I guess I should have thought more about what effect it would have on you... But I really just wanted to make you smile."

The tall nation stilled, peeking through his fingers at Alfred.

"Really?"

Alfred felt that blush coming up again, and quickly set to explaining himself.

"Yeah, I mean, of course I know the movie isn't historically accurate, come on! But, why else did you think I'd give her all that happy stuff? Because I wanna see her happy, because I wanna see you happy..."

Okay, no use trying to hide it now. His face was redder than a tomato.

Ivan seemed to be thinking, eyes big (and beautiful).

"You... You have done so much research about my history? For me?"

Alfred stuttered something incomprehensible, and the Russian slowly began smiling again.

"Would you- would you like to watch it together? I am afraid I did not really focus on the happy parts the first time-"

"Hell yeah!" Alfred blabbered, quickly setting to starting up the film again to avoid any further embarrassment. Then he settled on the couch next to the other, freezing when Russia's thigh touched his.

"So, where did you get the idea for Rasputin?" he asked softly, and Alfred was glad his eyes were glued on the screen.

He swallowed, and set to explaining.

"Well..."


	17. Missing You

Missing You

 **Having a boyfriend on the other end of the world isn't always easy.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

It was almost 1 am. Everything was peaceful in America's house, the only sound the ticking of the space-themed clock hanging from his bedroom wall. Alfred snuggled a bit deeper into his pillows, sighing happily as he thought about juicy hamburgers and fizzy drinks.

Then, the peace and quiet was abruptly interrupted by the loud buzzing of his phone. Alfred groaned, trying to bury himself under his blanket and will the sound away. But alas, his phone wasn't planning on giving up its terribly annoying behaviour anytime soon.

The American sighed wistfully and put on his glasses, nearly poking an eye out in the process due to his grogginess. He pushed the green button and brought the wretched piece of communication to his ear.

"Who is this?" he grumbled, no hint of his usual energetic excitement left.

"Alfeeeeeeeeeeeed!" a heavily accented voice whined, and America could immediately place it as his boyfriend's plea for help.

"What up big guy? Lost your nose?"

"HOW DID YOU KNOW?!" Russia practically shouted in his ear, Alfred wincing and holding it an arms away from his tortured ear.

"…What?"

"Fedya, I lost my nose!" the other hiccuped, and Alfred knew he could smell the alcohol on his breath. "It must have ran off somewhere!"

Alfred moaned and whined. Why did Russia have to be such an avid drinker? Sure, usually he didn't get drunk, but when he did, oooooooooh boy.

"Ivan, calm down and place your hand on your face."

" _C-chto_? Why?"

"Just do it. Please babe, I really wanna get this over with and go back to bed."

A moment of silence, and he could hear the rustling of clothes on the other side of the line.

"…It is here."

Alfred almost laughed at the semi-disappointed tone in his boyfriend's voice. Then he stopped, holding back a sob. It _had_ been three full months since they had last seen each other after all, what with their job as a country getting in the way all the time. He missed that silly bear of a man.

"So, you got your nose back. Good for you babe. I gotta go now, sleepytime."

"Alfred."

The sunny blond instantly cut himself off, not missing the change of tone in Russia's voice.

"It was… it is nice hearing your voice again, sunflower," he mumbled, the words coming out in a low rumbling that made Alfred long to see the expression that accompanied it. He wanted to kiss Ivan, thread his fingers through soft hair and hear his soft sighs of delight as he almost crushed him in a tight hug.

"Yeah. I'll see you soon angel eyes. You and that big schnoz of yours."

"Goodnight, Fedya."

And when Alfred went to sleep again, he placed the pillows in such a way it felt like someone was hugging him from behind.


	18. Dance With Me

Dance With Me

 **America is bored, and dancing might just be the solution.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

The meeting just kept going on and on, France talking passionately about things no one was interested in. America sighed heavily, trying to keep his pen standing up on one finger. His face was lying flat on the cool surface of the table, and if he had a pillow he was sure he would have been able to fall asleep right then and there.

His eyes flickered up, staring at the person seated directly across of him, at the other end of the table. Russia looked equally as bored as everyone else. His eyes were trained on the flamboyant Frenchman at the front, but America knew for a fact his doodles of sunflowers couldn't possibly be notes of the meeting.

After stifling a yawn, Russia's eyes suddenly shot to his own. Instead of looking away, America instantly accepted the challenge of a staring contest.

Russia smirked and leant forward, supporting his chin with entwined hands. His violet orbs were as cold as always, but they had lost their intensity because of his exhaustion. Now there was a more childish playfulness in them, begging for America to do something interesting to liven up this thing.

And so he did.

Everyone was (literally) shaken awake when America suddenly rose from his seat, chair screeching back and hands placed firmly on his thighs.

"Okay big guy! You! Me! Dance off! Right now!"

And before anyone could stop him, America began performing a perfect moonwalk, making challenging gestures at the Slavic nation. Russia blinked, completely taken by surprise. When everyone seemed too bedazzled by this sudden behaviour to do anything, he shrugged. Oh well, why not? Thus the Russian rose as well, took off his coat and began dancing as well.

Everyone simply stared in stupefied amazement as the two nations danced through the room, performing everything from classical ballet to street dance to cossack to almost soaring through the sky with wild leaps. And the closer they got, the more intense their staring and movements became.

It was no surprise that once they came close enough, instead of dancing at each other they began dancing with each other. America didn't even flinch when the tall nation slipped a hand around his waist and elegantly dipped him.

" _Amérique_ , catch!"

The young nation captured a red rose from a laughing France and placed it between his teeth. Russia lifted him up again and they clasped their hands together, noses mere inches apart and eyes smouldering.

Italy was the first to start applauding when they began performing a perfect tango, bodies moving sensually to non-existent music and gazes never breaking away. Then France joined in, Hungary, Japan began taking pictures, and soon everyone was cheering for the two heatedly dancing men.

Meanwhile, Germany and a few others were sitting by the side, eyes twitching and notes deemed useless now that everyone's attention was lost.

"That is not how I raised him," England sighed, but even he seemed to out of it to care.

Germany's eye simply twitched again.


	19. Flying

Flying

 **Ivan experiences the freedom of flying.**

 **Rated K.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

"Come on big guy, we haven't got all day!"

Ivan eyed the harness with distrust, feeling the young American pull excitedly at his arm. He hadn't asked to parasailing, but of course had been unable to deny his enthusiastic boyfriend the experience. He had never expected that after soaring through he sky for about fifteen minutes, Alfred would want him to do the same.

"Are you sure it is safe?" he asked, poking at the thing with his right foot.

"Of course! I used it just a moment ago, right? Nothing broke, nothing went wrong."

"I… do not know if-"

"Hey," Alfred interrupted, placing a hand on his cheek to grab his attention.

"If you're that afraid, I can come with?"

Ivan instantly frowned, his lip slightly sticking out in what was definitely not a pout.

"I never said I was afraid," he huffed. However, after stealing another glance at the boat, the ocean and the clear skies above, he gave a reluctant nod. "But if you insist…"

Alfred grinned, standing on his tiptoes to plant a firm kiss on the tip of Ivan's nose.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

The captain of the boat that would be pulling them along helped the two get strapped up before going back to his maritime vehicle. Alfred grabbed his hand and gave it a soothing squeeze.

Then it was time to go.

As soon as they were lifted off their feet and into the sky, Ivan squeezed his eyes shut. Toes curling when they couldn't feel ground beneath them, he tried to swallow away the lump that was stuck down his throat. Bees buzzed in his stomach as his hair was swept from side to side, and his heart felt like it could grow wings and fly off.

"Vanya. Look."

Waiting a few seconds more to gather enough courage, he hesitantly opened one eye. Then he gasped, and the next moments were spent gaping at the world around him.

So this was what freedom felt like.

Everywhere he could look was blue richness, the boat a lot smaller from this height. The wind tasted of salt and warmth, and he swore he could touch the sun if he stretched his arm. Swaying his feet, it felt like walking on air, and he wanted to fly off and feel more of this intense happiness.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Alfred asked softly, the youngster unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. He was practically glowing in the evening sun, eyes big and beautiful as his hair was thrown back.

Ivan let out a jubilant laugh before leaning to the side and kissing Alfred on his cheek.

"Thank you, Alfred."


	20. Good Enough

Good Enough

 **Ivan hasn't said it yet, making Alfred doubt for a moment.**

 **Rated K+.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

Alfred was quite peeved.

He and Ivan had been a couple for quite some time now, the two already adapted to each other's way of living. Alfred of course didn't let a moment go buy to tell Ivan how much he loved him, showering that big adorable bear of a man with compliments and praise. He was known to get rather affectionate around those he loved, but he expected something in return.

Ivan hadn't said it yet. Those three simple words that held all the meaning in the world, the only thing he wanted to fall from those pale lips.

Did Ivan simply not love him? Was he shy? Was he planning on leaving him? Alfred didn't know, and the insecurity was killing him.

"Maaaaaaaaaaaaattieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee," he whined, hearing his twin brother sigh on the other end of the line.

"What is it Al?" Matthew asked, him unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Alfred knew Matthew was in the middle of packing for his upcoming move, but he simply needed to hear his voice right now.

"Ivan doesn't love meeeeeeeee," he groaned, rolling around weakly on his bed before flailing his arms.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course! He hasn't said it yet! That must mean he simply doesn't feel the same for me I do for him!"

"Okay, then let me ask you this. Has he called you nicknames before?"

Alfred stilled, clenching the phone tightly in his hand.

"…Yeah? He has dozens of nicknames for me."

"Does he stay the night, or is it just sex?"

"Of course he stays!" Alfred huffed indignantly, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. "And more often than not we just cuddle, because he says he likes waking up next to me. And sometimes he makes me breakfast, I guess."

"Does he ever buy you gifts?"

"All the time…" Alfred's voice started to sound a little unsteady as realization began to dawn on him.

"Does he call you just to hear your voice? Take you out to places he doesn't really like just because he knows you do? Does he know your shoe size?"

"…"

Alfred covered his mouth with a hand, cheeks now redder than a boiled lobster. His eyes were feverishly flashing through the room, shooting from the bouquet of sunflowers Ivan had bought him a week ago to the photograph of them acting like goofballs on their last date.

"He- he loves me?"

He could imagine Matthew's smile.

"I'm pretty sure he does, Al."

When Ivan came over the next day, Alfred immediately took him into his arms and gave him the tightest hug he'd ever given anyone.

"Fedka? Did you miss me?" Ivan laughed, snuggling into his hair as he sighed blissfully.

Ivan hadn't said it yet. But he didn't have to.

Just knowing the truth was good enough.


	21. A Man's Love Goes Through His Stomach

A Man's Love Goes Through His Stomach

 **Alfred overeats, and Ivan finds himself oddly charmed.**

 **Rated K+.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

"Ivaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan," Alfred whined, the sound that spilled from his mouth very much resembling that of a feline complaining.

The young American was sprawled leisurely over his couch, pillows kicked off in frustration and belly uncovered. His expression was petulant as he beckoned for the other to come over, moaning pathetically when his stomach grumbled once more. He shouldn't have eaten all those fries, he really shouldn't. But it had looked so good…

Meanwhile, Ivan stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes were feverishly focussed on the flustered look Alfred currently sported, those little whines like a strange addictive song to his ears.

What, what the hell was this supposed to mean? He wasn't supposed to be attracted to Alfred when he was like this, wasn't supposed to feel a spark of heat when the boy overate himself like a filthy pig.

In the past, he'd only ever dated polite people. People who shared his interests, with whom he could have interesting conversations and debates.

But Alfred… Alfred was one of a kind.

Ivan slowly took off his coat, hanging it away with feigned ease.

"Ivaaaaaaaaaan," his boyfriend of a month whined once more, and Ivan was sure he could feel the little hairs in the back of his neck stand on edge. "Come rub my tummy pleeeeeeeeeease Ivaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan-"

The Russian hurried over to the other, kneeling down and placing a hand on his stomach. He began slowly caressing, studying the way that pained expression morphed into one of pure bliss.

"Ooooooooooooh, feels good~"

Ivan once more questioned his sanity when he felt a shiver travel down his spine. What was with him today? He wasn't supposed to find any of this pleasurable! He should find the crumbs and spots of grease on Alfred's shirt revolting, should want to vomit at the trail of drool leaking from his greedy mouth. Yet it was as if his body moved on its own accord as he brought up a hand, swiped those drops away with his index finger, and put them into his own mouth.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeew, don't do that," Alfred grumbled, yet still with that lazily happy expression on his face as Ivan kept rubbing his sore tummy.

And Ivan quite agreed with Alfred. He should not be happy doing things like that, he really shouldn't. Yet he was.

Because as long as it was Alfred, he couldn't find it in him to be bothered by his less desirable behaviourisms. As long as he stayed himself, Ivan could never be disgusted.

This was what love must feel like.


	22. A Kiss Should Suffice

A Kiss Should Suffice

 **During the Cold War, things sometimes got a little out of hand between the two powerful nations.**

 **Rated M.**

 **Mentions of blood and injury.**

~o~

"Fuck you!" America spat, panting from where he sat on the ground, nursing his wounded jaw. Russia was seated at the other end of the room, holding his bloodied nose.

They were like two wounded animals, extremely dangerous when cornered by an opponent. Eyes flashing electric blue and scorching violet, lips drawn back in snarled growls.

It had started just like any other meeting they had before, cold leers, sarcastic comments, grins that could easily be turned into grimaces by a single hissed word. This is how they had been for months, years almost. Not exactly enemies, but definitely no longer friends. Something more, something less, something…

"I hate you," America snapped, standing up from his crouching position. But not turning around, never turning around. Do not show your back to the enemy.

Russia scoffed. It was a filthy lie, and they both knew it. Despite wanting to use teeth and claws and kicks to hurt each other every way possible, make the other bleed a dirty red, they didn't hate one another, never could. They were too entwined for that.

Russia dragged a hand under his nose, leaving behind a smear of dark brown dried blood. "I hate your accent."

America let out a barking, humourless laugh. "Sure you do!" he giggled, after which he began spatting all kinds of slang Russia couldn't even hope to understand.

The Southern drawl was like an aphrodisiac, calling him, guiding him towards those venomous mocking eyes, that smug twitching up of lips as those perfect white teeth flashed between ever-moving lips.

Russia surged forward, catching America off guard. He slammed the smaller man against the wall, and once more to successfully cut off his string of curses.

"Liar," the Russian purred in a sing-song voice, eyes alight with joyless glee. Like a big cat trapping his prey. Only America was nothing like a mouse; if Russia were to be compared to a bear or a tiger, he would be the majestic eagle of his home, ready to claw and bite and screech its fearsome cry.

And suddenly those violet eyes were much too close, pale skin flashing in the corner of his eyes as a thumb caressed his cheekbone, Russia smirking yet challenging in a playfully excited manner.

And of course, who would America be if he didn't accept a challenge?

Russia gasped as a hand buried itself in his neck, nails digging into the flesh when America pulled him down into a rough kiss.

There was no gentleness, no hesitant nibbling or loving sliding of lips. It was an unabashed intruding of tongues and teeth, blood quickly mixing with saliva as both tried to gain dominance.

Russia roughly gripped America's hip and pulled his leg up, grinding into him with all the excess energy their previous eruption (and the ones before) had left him with. America moaned into his mouth before biting down on his lip, clawing and scratching across the taller man's clothed back, certain he could hear clothes rip.

It didn't last too long, but it felt like forever.

Somehow they ended up on the ground, biting and licking and grinding, seeming more in combat than making out. And that's exactly what it was, another contest, showing which one could outsmart the other, outlive, out-

"Oooooooooooh…"

"Heh."

Both panted as they bathed in the aftermath of their climax, sweaty, dishevelled and covered in even more injuries than before.

It didn't always go like this. Usually it remained a fight, showing off strength instead of youthful libido and dominance. But today, Russia was certainly the winner. America wasn't about to let him get away with it though.

Before the Slavic nation could catch his breath, America started making quick work of unravelling his scarf.

"What are you-" Russia said in an alarmed tone, eyes shooting open once he became aware of the other's movements. He was quickly shut up as America brought his mouth to the now bare neck, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh.

Russia remained completely still as America set on marking him as many times as he could, heart beating out an odd tango and limbs twitching every so often. How had America found out his neck was his one weak point?

After covering every last bit of skin in crimson bite marks, America sat up.

"I hate you," he once more whispered, smirking that arrogant little smile of his before getting up and leaving the room.

As Russia lay recovering on the floor, he clenched his fists.

" _Ya tohze_ …" he murmured into the empty room.

~o~

Words:

Ya tohze: Me too


	23. Putty In My Hands

Putty In My Hands

 **Alfred gives Ivan a massage.**

 **Rated T.**

~o~

"Are you certain this will help?" Ivan asked, uneasily eyeing the table he had helped set up.

"Of course! I used to give Mattie massages all the time, he says my hands are divine!" Alfred chirruped in response. He expectantly patted the table, waiting for his boyfriend to lie down.

Ivan nervously folded and unfolded his hands – he would have been playing with his scarf, but Alfred had asked him to take it off for the best effect. The bandages remained however, hiding his scars and sensitive neck.

Ivan carefully lay down, relaxing only a tad when a towel was placed delicately over his lower regions. His shoulders were hunched up, hands secretly balled to fists. He wanted to trust Alfred, but… all those scars, battle wounds and evidence of his wrong-doings. He didn't want the American to look at them and be disgusted, didn't want the younger nation to start asking questions. He felt bare and naked in more than one sense, exposed.

Ivan let out a soft yelp when Alfred firmly placed oiled-up hands on his back. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut and tensing further. Memories of whips and bruises and screaming filled his mind, making him shiver. Any second now, Alfred would falter in his gentle touches and start shooting those dreaded questions. Or worse, he really was young once more, standing in front of everyone who had wanted to conquer him, possess him, make him obey in the most horrible ways.

However, instead of the inevitable happening, Ivan could feel how Alfred's hands started moving in slow, rhythmic strokes. Drawing languid yet firm circles over his shoulder blades, pushing the tension away from his spine and easing it out over the surface of his back. Those warm hands moving along his shoulders and back, it was far better than Ivan would have ever hoped.

After his shoulders were stretched and kneaded, Alfred slowly worked his way down Ivan's spine, attacking knots with his thumbs and pushing them all apart. The lower he went, the more Ivan relaxed. He no longer worried about the ragged battlefield that was his back, nor about faces of his past. Only wonderful sensations were registered in his mind and nerves.

Before he could stop himself, the Russian started letting out soft hums and content sighs. The experience was simply too fulfilling for him to remain silent. Alfred didn't comment on it at first, him merely minding his own business and thinking solely about the task at hand. The more stress he relieved though, the more vocal his usually quite mute lover became. Alfred began having a little trouble when the sighs started resembling pleasurable moans. By the time he reached the lowest parts of Ivan's blower back, the ashen blond was stretching and arching against his hands, having become putty under Alfred's expertise. He knew he could hear Ivan purr, like the giant Siberian kitty he truly was.

Alfred swallowed, and finally spoke up. "Ivan, babe, _please_. I'm trying to focus here."

The taller nation stilled, as if startled by the sudden interruption of peace and quiet. Alfred's breath caught when he looked up, following the line of muscles on a naked and deliciously pale back, up until Ivan's turned face. Staring back at him were two immensely gorgeous violet eyes, wide and round, pupils like black holes tempting him in.

"What is wrong?" his client sighed, voice having gone dry and raspy. And oh, Alfred had to grasp the table now to keep himself in hand. Ivan truly had no idea what he was doing to him.

"You want me to finish or not?" he quickly asked, spitting the words out just a little too fast.

Ivan curled his back again, stretching – and Alfred's grip became that much tighter – before plopping back down. He was clearly more relaxed than he ever had been, displayed in front of Alfred like a delicious gooey meal- no wait a wintry Adonis- NO, focus Alfred, focus-

Ivan smiled up at him, eyes hooded and smouldering. "I would like that very much."

Alfred had absolutely no excuse for what came next. Not even the following morning, when both were so sore they needed another massage.


	24. Tongue-tied & Happy Birthday

**The following two drabbles are really short, so I decided to combine them into one chapter.**

Tongue-tied

 **Alfred and Ivan are a little... tied up.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

Arthur sighed for the umpteenth time.

"I would have expected this from you Alfred, but Ivan? Seriously?"

"Hmmm!"

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. Again.

Only to those two would something like this happen.

Only to those two.

A nurse entered the waiting room, the clicking of her high heels stopping when she looked up and smiled.

"Mister Braginsky and mister Jones?"

And then the two men rose, carefully, shuffling into the doctor's room with their tongues tied together by a little string of rope.

Arthur sighed one final time.

"Only those morons."

–

Happy birthday

 **Ivan gives Alfred his birthday present.**

 **Rated K+ with minor implications.**

~o~

Alfred was sulking. It was his birthday, which was usually the best day of the entire year. But how could he be happy if his own boyfriend hadn't even felt like showing up?

Everyone had come to his party, everyone. Matthew, Kiku, Francis, Toris, even Arthur had gone out of his way to deliver a gift and cough up blood in his bathroom.

But no Ivan.

Alfred sighed as he opened the door to his bedroom, flicking on the lights. Then he froze.

"Happy birthday, _lapushka_."

Alfred's jaw flapped down, his eyes growing to be the size of watermelons. Ivan was lying spread-eagle on his bed, rose petals scattered across the blankets, the only thing covering his sturdy yet plush figure being his scarf.

Alfred slowly began grinning, closing the door behind him.

Oh, this was the best gift Ivan could've given to him.


	25. Temper

Temper

 **When Russia loses his temper, America has an unorthodox way of calming him down.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

The sound of scattered glass caught Alfred's attention, dragging is blue eyes away from the TV screen and towards the man at the other end of the room. Ivan had been using his phone in the adjoining room, soft voice only rising above the noise of the television in short waves. Now, he seemed a lot less calm. As he picked up another glass ornament and threw it against the wall, Alfred began having the feeling something was wrong.

"That idiot!" Ivan hissed, more to himself than to his guest. "He thinks I am a machine, that I can do the work of thousands in a single day. _Suka_!"

Alfred started to rise when after the decorations, Ivan directed his attention towards the papers he had neatly stacked on top of his desk. Wiping them away, he took one book and more or less tore it in two.

"All that hard work for nothing! And just because of one single mistake. Of course I get blamed for everything, who else would need to be reminded they are worth nothing?!"

His words were emphasized by the ripping noises. Ivan's expression was furious, lips drawn back in a snarl that showed teeth.

"Ivan? You all right?"

Alfred froze like a deer caught in the headlight when the big Russian turned his attention towards the smaller American.

"What do you think Alfred?" he asked, voice dripping with acidic sarcasm. "Do I look all right to you?!"

Alfred raised his hands in a defensive gesture. "Wow, okay, no need to bite my nose off."

"Bite your- you think this is about you?! You have nothing to do with it! Just- just leave me alone!"

His figure was huge and bulking, stance every bit intimidating. Yet Alfred's own words had given him an idea as to how to calm that bear of a man down, or at least attempt to.

Slowly he slid his foot forward, stalking towards his fuming companion as if creeping up on a wild animal. Ivan's eyes closely followed him, muscles tensing further in a manner of warning. A warning that, if Alfred even dared to touch him, he would get the beating of his life. Ivan had too much excess energy to be calmed down by a kiss or gentle words.

Alfred felt his heart thumping in his throat. He tried to swallow, but the chunk wouldn't go away.

If this ended any other way than good, he did not want to know the consequences.

Alfred surprised Ivan by suddenly surging forward, giving up on his slow stalk. The Russian wanted to put his arms out to defend himself, but Alfred grabbed him by his shoulders and brought their faces close. Then, before Ivan could react, he felt something.

Two layers of teeth chomping down on his nose. Not hard enough to cut the skin, but it was definitely going to leave a mark.

This strange action made Ivan pause, him blinking owlishly at the American attached to his nose.

"What are you doing?" he asked, voice a bit nasal, complete and utter confusion washing through his veins.

Alfred carefully let go again after assuring himself Ivan wasn't going to instantly attack.

"Giving you a love bite. What else does it look like. To remind you that you're definitely not worthless."

His reasoning was not exactly flawless, Ivan thought. "What- what does biting me have to do with-"

"Because your personality is so sugar sweet I can't help but eat you up," Alfred quickly made up, wiggling his eyebrows in a goofy manner.

Almost a minute went by, the two men staring at each other. Alfred could feel the sweat sliding down his neck, afraid it hadn't worked.

But then suddenly, Ivan burst out in a loud rumbling laughter. He pulled Alfred to his chest and twirled him around, making the other gasp and yelp in surprise.

"Oh sunflower, you are ridiculous," he giggled, bad mood completely forgotten by the unorthodox cheering up techniques of his lover.

Alfred blushed and pouted, but allowed a cheeky grin to slip around his lips.

Note to self: biting helps calming Ivan down.

(He wasn't going to tell Ivan he had learnt that from an animal documentary.)


	26. Don't Touch Me

Don't touch me

 **Rated M for murder and possessiveness gone too far.**

~o~

"Don't fucking touch me!" he growled, backing away from the taller man. Ivan was looking at him with a huge, maniacal smile. His eyes deranged, lips drawn back and fingers twitching, as if he wanted desperately to put them around Alfred's pretty little neck.

"But _dorogoy_ ," the Russian purred, advancing on him like a predator on its prey. Alfred slapped his hands away, backing off as far as he could.

"Why on earth would you do that, you psycho?! You seriously need to stop this!" he screamed, voice reaching hysterical levels. Ivan was still looking like something extremely funny had just happened- he even had the audacity to start laughing.

"But Alfred, don't you see? Without your family, I can have you all to myself! We can be together forever, just like we always wanted."

Alfred felt like tearing his hair out. When he started dating Ivan, sure, he'd noticed how possessive the man could be. Even thought it cute sometimes, because it meant Ivan cared.

He had never expected Ivan to be capable of murder.

And he definitely had never thought himself capable of not wanting to turn Ivan in.

He shouted and cursed through Ivan's joyless laughter, kicking at the blood-stained ground where just a moment ago, Ivan's latest victim had been lying. A woman, just a passer-by who had looked at Alfred a second too long to Ivan's liking.

She was number thirty-five.

The thirty-fifth person Ivan had successfully robbed of their life.

The thirty-fifth crime Alfred hadn't reported.

And the thirty-fifth time he wondered when he himself had lost his sanity.


	27. Oh Fuck

Oh Fuck

 **Alfred gets a call from his boyfriend which will soon turn his world upside-down.**

 **Rated M.**

 **Human AU.**

 **Contains character death, blood and injury.**

~o~

It is one thing getting a call from your boyfriend in the middle of the night, rousing you from a deep and peaceful slumber. It is a whole other thing hearing his panicked breathing as he calls your name, voice raspy and strangely far-off.

"Ivan?" Alfred asked, instantly more awake than ever. He pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, distress and confusion rising when he heard Ivan softly weeping- Ivan, the man who hadn't even cried when he fell down the stairs and broke his leg, or the other time when he a family member had died and he was so struck by it he didn't talk for a week. And that Ivan, his Ivan, was calling Alfred in the middle of the night with a broken voice muffled by tears and something else, something Alfred couldn't put his finger on.

"What's wrong," the American insisted, putting on his night-robe as he clenched his phone between ear and tensed shoulder.

"Come- come… I need you…" Ivan whispered, barely audible over Alfred's rapid breathing. The American was already sprinting down the stairs, hand grabbing at keys and shoes, ignoring the fact he was still in his pyjamas.

"Babe babe please, calm down," he fired, cursing when he stubbed his toe against the door frame but running outside without locking up nonetheless. Ivan only lived two streets away, yet it didn't make his sprint any less hurried. He kept the phone to the side of his head, fingers shaking as they clenched the only thing keeping him connected to his beloved. "What happened? Ivan, what's wrong?"

"Fell… There is red, Alfredka…"

Alfred almost tripped and fell, regaining his footing only at the last possible moment. Only a few more houses. Three, two- there, down the little pathway leading up to a clean glass door, patches of flowers and herbs planted next to it. He fumbled for Ivan's house key, needing four times to get it inside the keyhole.

He didn't allow himself to think of what those words meant, couldn't get his head over it. However, once he slipped and spurted inside Ivan's kitchen, the place from where he could hear a quiet moaning and disturbed giggling, the truth came crashing down.

Blood, blood everywhere. A cabinet door hanging off its hinges, cutlery scattered across the smirched linoleum, a body curled up in the middle. Beautiful eyes filled with tears, limbs twitching as blood gushed from scratches and a sizable head wound.

"Oh fuck," was all Alfred could say, figure frozen in stunned mortification. "Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_. Ivan, what happened?"

He couldn't believe what his own eyes registered, because it simply couldn't be true. Ivan couldn't be lying there, mouth twisted in a painful smile as he looked up at Alfred. And he certainly couldn't look so afraid, like a frightened little bird, for his Ivan was fearless.

"I fell," Ivan whispered, and Alfred flinched when a rough couching fit forced new blood out of his wounds. He finally came to action- he needed to help Ivan, stop him from bleeding. Blood should stay inside the body, it wasn't meant to be streaming out with such large quantities. This, this couldn't be healthy.

He felt a bit delirious as he crouched down besides his lover, capturing his hand as in a daze. Ivan was still crying, not putting in any effort to keep the tears from staining his pale cheeks.

"Alfred," he said, softly pulling at the other's hand in a mute request.

Alfred leant forward, bringing his head to Ivan's lips. He wasn't crying, nor was he getting ready to call an ambulance. Why wasn't he calling an ambulance? Ivan should be brought to a hospital, Ivan should…

Yet instead of doing the logical thing, Alfred sat there, listening to the other's words as if dying was only another part of being in a relationship, as if this was all but a dream and he'd wake up later and nothing would've happened.

"I wanted to cook something for you. For your birthday," Ivan explained, voice leaving him as fast as the life slipped away from his shaking hands. "I slipped and fell. I think I broke something, everything is red and black."

Why could he discuss this in such a formal manner? As if he was only telling the details of an elaborate plan, helping Alfred study just like he did back in college, when Alfred was a freshman and Ivan his handsome senior.

"I am sorry, Fedya."

Alfred still hadn't said anything. His eyes were dry while he stroked Ivan's face, making sure the blood didn't reach his eyes and his sweaty hair was neatly tucked behind his ears.

"Why did you call me? Why didn't you call the hospital?" he finally choked out, not recognizing his own voice as it sounded strangled and tiny.

Ivan placed a small kiss on his cheek, before his eyes slipped shut.

"I couldn't stand not seeing you one final time," he sighed.

And Alfred stayed by his side, the two of them not having moved when dawn broke through the thick curtains and the neighbours started their daily rituals.


	28. Spiderman

Spiderman

 **Alfred wants to act out the Spiderman kiss.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

Alfred was so pumped after watching the Spiderman film. For more reason than one, to be quite frank. Despite the action, the humour, the happy ending, there was one particular scene that had caught his attention.

Which was exactly the reason why he was waiting atop a low building, completely in Spiderman outfit. He had called Ivan some time ago to come to this exact place, and was ready to give him the biggest, most exciting surprise of his life.

Soon he could hear the heavy rhythmic thud of Ivan's heels clacking against the pavement, and his heart sped up eagerly.

"Alfred?" the tall man called out, nodding his head from side to side to check his surroundings.

Alfred suppressed a giggle. Time to rock.

He lowered himself with the rope he had bound around his stomach. Appearing right behind the Russian, he tapped his lightly on the shoulder.

As soon as Ivan turned around, Alfred wasted absolutely no time with planting his lips on top of the other's.

It was amazing, it was magical, it was-

Alfred cursed when something hard and solid collided with the side of his head. The impact sent him flying to the side, rope snapping under the strain. He fell to the ground, ending every bit of euphoria still lingering in his veins.

Ivan raised his fist to give him another hit, when he finally recognized the face of the man currently cursing and blabbering while nursing the giant bruise on his cheek.

"Alfred?" he asked, disbelief colouring his voice.

"Yeah, ass! What'd you do that for?!"

Ivan blinked, trying to make sense of the situation. Why was Alfred dressed in such a strange get-up? Why call him out to this dark and empty alleyway? Why surprise him when Alfred knew how Ivan reacted to strangers touching him out on the street?

He sighed. Never mind that. First thing to do was get Alfred to a hospital and get that bruise looked at, since it didn't look pretty at all.

Alfred had all the time in the world to work on Ivan's consciousness later that night.


	29. Temptation

Temptation

 **Ivan doesn't want to be at this ball, not at all. Until he meets Alfred, that is.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

Ivan was in a foul mood. He didn't want to be here, hadn't asked to be dragged to a party against his will. Yet here they were, he and his sisters, the two traitors having scattered as soon as they entered the ballroom.

Now he was leaning against a wall next to the snack table, sulking heavily. He was supposed to be wearing a mask, but he didn't like covering up his face with anything but his scarf, didn't much care for minimizing his sight.

His pouting and mute grumbling didn't last long however.

Not before too long he caught sight of a snappy suit, red white and blue bow tie, the most extravagant mask you could think of, and two of the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. The stranger smiled up at him as he bent over to grab some food.

"Shouldn't you be out there on the dance floor angel eyes?" he asked, Southern drawl sending a shiver up Ivan's neck.

"I should be doing no such thing," he replied, huffing indignantly yet oddly charmed by those perfectly white teeth.

"Of course of course, not much fun dancing on your own huh," his companion said, quickly stuffing a sandwich into his mouth. He glanced around, and quickly wiped his hands on his neat slacks, making Ivan blurt out a nervous giggle. He wasn't exactly good at talking to strangers.

The other smiled at the sound, his eyes twinkling with glee.

"Now then," he coughed, making an elegant bow. "Can I have this dance?"

Ivan blushed all shades of reds at the proposal, spluttering and wishing he had his scarf to hide behind. The other merely smiled once more, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to his mouth. Ivan stilled as Alfred's plump lips caressed his knuckles, blue eyes leering up at him from beneath dark eyelashes.

"Or would you rather do something else?" he muttered, husky voice making Ivan light in the head. "I heard the view is quite magnificent from up on the roof. And no one will be there at this time. It'd be just you and me. _Alone_."

After swallowing away his nerves and the fluttering in his gut, he gave a quick nod.

He should thank his sisters later.


	30. Phantom Families

Phantom Families

 **Alfred thinks he's pregnant.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

"Ivan! Ivan, wake up!"

The Russian startled awake with a jolt, instantly sitting up at hearing his lover's distressed calling. " _Chto_ \- what is wrong?" His head whirled around trying to locate any murderer or burglar. Once he deemed the area void of any intruders, his purple hues wandered over towards Alfred's panicked expression.

"Ivan, I think I'm pregnant!"

Those words turned Ivan's entire world upside down. He- he was going to be a father? Almost immediately he could see a whole life flash by him; little copies of him and Alfred playing in the garden, helping him tend for his precious sunflowers, tiny scarfs and socks and sweaters he had helped knit. He would read them bedtime stories and take them on his shoulders, teach them his wisdom and keep them from any harm. It was such a lovely dream it almost set tears to his eyes.

Just as he was about to congratulate his partner and take the younger into his arms, he paused. There was something wrong with the picture. Something vital… missing.

"Alfred. Why do you think you are pregnant?" Ivan asked, voice audibly deflating from the happiness he'd felt just a few seconds before.

"Because- I've been getting real nauseous lately and I think I gained weight and I'm getting this weird feeling in my stomach and-"

"And that must mean you are pregnant, because…?"

"Because! That's exactly what the internet said once I typed in all the symptoms! We have to go to the store and buy a pregnancy test, I heard those things are- eep!"

Alfred gasped and flushed when Ivan stuffed a hands down his pants. He patted around for a bit, giving Alfred a pointed look with cocked eyebrow.

"Alfred. Has it not occurred to you that you are, how do I say this, male? And that without any scientific help, males cannot naturally get pregnant and give birth?"

Alfred blinked owlishly, then the blush darkened. Ivan sighed again as he retracted his hand, the other babbling uselessly as he made wild gestures with his hands.

"You have probably just been eating too much lately," the Russian explained patiently, rubbing his temples. Now that the idea of children had been brought up… he actually felt a bit disappointed that there weren't going to be any. He'd always loved children, after all.

"W-well, it's not my fault! Blame the internet, they should clarify that stuff!"

"Most people know this for a fact. They do not need extra clarification."

Alfred pouted, pulling his knees up to his chest. "Whatever. Thanks for being worried about my health, you ass."

Ivan didn't respond, staring off into the distance. It was that silence that drew Alfred's attention. "Ivan? You all right?"

The other answered with a shrug, not looking his lover in the eye. Alfred shuffled around for a bit before crawling over. Ivan silently took him into his arms, grateful for a bit of warmth now that his dream had been shattered - even though it had been planted there just a few moments ago.

Alfred placed a hesitant kiss on his stubbly cheek, then whispered into his ear.

"Hey… If you want kids so bad, we can always adopt…"

Ivan's eyes shot to the side, surprised and disbelieving.

"Really? But we never talked about-"

"Yeah, really. I can see you want them."

"Are you sure we are… ready?"

"As ready as we'll ever be."

Ivan contemplated the thought, then wrapped his arms even tighter around Alfred's body.

" _Ya tebya lyublyu_ ," he sighed, smiling widely at the prospect of starting a little family with his beloved.


	31. Come here

Come here

 **Not everyone can take a man wearing a dress, and sometimes words hurt more than actions.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Human AU.**

 **Contains: cross-dresser Alfred.**

~o~

He couldn't take it anymore. He simply couldn't take it anymore.

Alfred practically kicked down the door, cursing when his dress got caught by the wood. He pulled at it, but not too harshly, afraid he'd rip the fine fabric.

He hated them. He hated every single one of them. True, people were allowed to have their own opinion, but if Alfred felt more comfortable wearing dresses and high heels than suits and ties, they should respect his decision instead of try to make his life miserable. He didn't ask for their snide remarks and anonymous messages, didn't do anything that deserved bullying. He simply wore 'girly' clothes, nothing more and nothing less.

"Fuck them. Fuck all of them."

He stomped through the house and into the kitchen, rapidly blinking his eyes to keep the treacherous tears from welling up. He wasn't going to be brought to tears because of some dirty assholes. They weren't worth it. At least, that is what he tried to tell himself while he searched the cupboards for his favourite snacks, something he could angrily munch on to get his mind off unpleasant thoughts.

But they caught up to him nonetheless, hit him like a punch straight to the gut. Alfred fought for air as he curled up next to the fridge, hand fisting itself into his dress right over his stomach. He bit his knuckles, body trembling with suppressed sobs. He didn't want to cry because of some assholes who had nothing better to do than make others miserable.

"Alfred? Are you there?"

His breath caught, eyes shooting up when Ivan's tall figure rounded the corner. The snowy blond froze, mouth falling open when he saw Alfred's angry anguish. Expression growing sad, Ivan spread his arms.

"Ah, _dorogoy_. Come here."

"No!" Alfred hissed, not wanting to admit to his feelings. He growled when that bear of a man stepped closer, lips drawn back.

"No, I mean it! I don't need your pity, I don't need theirs, I don't need-"

He was cut off as the other took him into big, strong arms, pulling the smaller man to a broad chest.

"I am sorry, sunflower," Ivan whispered, stroking Alfred's back and softly rocking him back and forth.

Finally, Alfred let himself be overcome, clinging to the other's pullover and burying his face into his ever-present scarf.

Sometimes a hug was the best gift a man could receive.


	32. Missed You Babe

Missed You Babe

 **Ivan is more than happy to greet his lover at the airport. Alfred a little too happy.**

 **Rated T.**

~o~

Alfred walked up and down the hallway impatiently, checking his watch every so often. The plane could arrive any minute now, and then he'd finally see Ivan again. After almost half a year of not being able to touch each other, they had a lot of catching up to do. _A lot_.

"Sunflower?"

Alfred's head snapped up at that name. There was only one person who called him a sunflower, only one voice that sounded both like a tiger's purr and a pleasant high-pitched gruffness. Ivan.

Alfred's legs started running on their own accord, and he practically threw himself onto the tall Russian. Ivan laughed, but Alfred quickly cut him off with a passionate kiss. Not caring that they were in public, he continued to ravish Ivan's mouth and wrap his body around the other's in very intimate ways.

"Alfred, _dorogoy_ \- we are still at the airport," Ivan reminded, eyes already darkened with want. It had been long for him too, after all.

"Then let's go," Alfred whispered roughly, placing open-mouthed kisses along Ivan's jawline. Ivan groaned when Alfred rubbed himself against his leg, simulating what he wanted to happen.

"Let- let's go."

They tried to walk down the hallway, past the tired tourists and people finally coming home after a long trip. Yet halfway through, the men had to stop again.

"Alfred, Alfred please, we are not even outside yet-"

"But Eeeeeeevaaaaaahn," Alfred whined needily, making Ivan shudder.

"Alfred," he warned, planting his hands onto the other's shoulders to keep him from twitching all the time.

"Please, wait until we get home."

"But Ivan," Alfred murmured, putting on his best seductive leer. "If you keep looking at me like that we won't even _make_ it home."

"Like- like what?" Ivan breathed, thoroughly confused.

Alfred smiled, standing on his tip-toes to wrap his lips around the tip of Ivan's ear before going down and murmuring the words.

"Like you want to _eat me up_ -"

Alfred let out a happy sigh as Ivan picked him up, threw him over a shoulder, and raced towards the nearest bathroom.


	33. Maybe

Maybe

 **Russia is unsure whether or not he should bridge the gap between friendship and attraction.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

Ivan eyed his phone as if it were a ticking time bomb. His fingers drummed restlessly on the polished flat of the table, other hand supporting his chin as nails dug into the flesh.

He shouldn't be thinking about calling Alfred. Calling Alfred would be a very bad idea, the worst even. He and Alfred had been on bad terms for quite a long time now; just because the American had begun acting a little different around him that didn't mean past friendships could be revived. There was no way they would ever return to what they were before, before… before reality had slapped them in the face.

Still, his hands twitched to grab the phone. Dial the number, make an arrangement. Some coffee perhaps, or a quick lunch get-together. Just… talk. Maybe even crack a few jokes. And Ivan would smile when Alfred let out that boisterous laughter he so admired, full of youth and energy, something untamed and unlike any other laugh. Ivan loved that about Alfred.

The frown deepened. No, not love. Those were forbidden territories he mustn't venture. There might have been a possibility, a very long time ago, when Alfred admired him and he felt an undying fondness for the youngster. He couldn't feel that again. Those times were long gone. That child was long gone. True, Alfred still had his childish moments, but he had grown up in so many other aspects. Too fast, too much. _There was already so much blood in his mind_ -

Ivan groaned and covered his eyes with both hands. Why were social relationships so difficult? He couldn't live without them, yet life would be so much easier if he were to seclude himself and never show his face again. No constant doubting himself, his actions, his appearance, the action of others, how they thought about him, what were their true intentions… It was all so exhausting. It would be worth it if he had a friend, even one close friend. There were some, however none he fully trusted. Too much had happened for that.

The hands slid down until they fell useless to the tabletop. Was Alfred like that as well? Of course, he had a dark side. They both had. The past few years had proven that more than once. And yet… And yet he couldn't forget the friend he once had. Couldn't stop himself from wondering if that was once again possible. Not like before, never like before, but…

His head came to gently rest between his open hands, eyes fluttering shut. If he focused real hard, he could hear the sound of his heartbeat. It was a weakly stuttering, as if it was trying to escape again. It had done that before. Ivan never understood why, but it happened. Would such a fact disgust Alfred, or rather fascinate him? He, who had such a strong heart, beating like the running of a thousand horses over the empty plains. It would never falter, never give in (or out). Not even that one time, when things had gotten especially rough, and Ivan could still feel his hands close around that pulsing neck-

Ivan swallowed back the sudden lump. Of course it was a bad idea to call Alfred. Too much had happened between them. Even if the antagonism seemed to have mellowed out, the past could never be resurrected. Ivan knew that fully well. So why keep hoping? Why keep dreaming about amazingly blue eyes and a smile that warmed his cheeks? Why keep feeling that need to talk to him, tease him into stubborn playfulness, touch his golden locks?

It wasn't friendship, nor was it love. Definitely not love. Preposterous. So he thought as his hand once more reached towards the phone, that small thing looking so dangerously big in his eyes.

He was startled when it suddenly began ringing. Lifting his head off the table, he pulled the phone towards him. The caller was familiar.

Alfred.

With beating heart he let his index finger hover over the buttons. Pick up, or don't pick up? Even if he did, Alfred probably wasn't calling because of the reasons Ivan wanted him to call. And yet…

His frown deepened once more. He swallowed harshly and pressed a button.


	34. Trust

Trust

 **In a world were werewolves rampage, hard decisions must sometimes be made.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Human and monster AU.**

~o~

Ivan moaned pathetically when he regained consciousness, rising from his restless slumber as if crawling out of the mud. Images of memories flashed in front of his inner eye.

He and his partner had gone out to hunt on werewolves, them being the most capable of performing the task needed to keep the village safe. Everything had been going well at first, them chasing down the specimen that had been hiding inside an abandoned farm. Then… There was fire and smoke, and after that everything went blurry.

"Alfred?" That's right, he had to find his partner first. Maybe he knew what had happened after that.

Ivan groaned as he pushed himself on hands and knees, the world spinning around him. He was outside- apparently he'd been able to drag his body out of the house before the fire could spread.

"Alfred?" he called again, louder this time, with more urgency. He couldn't be certain the werewolf had died in the fire, what with the black holes in his memory.

"Up here…" came a weak answer. Ivan turned his nose towards it, finding an open window on the second floor of the partially burnt down building. Luckily the fire had ceased, making it easy for him to go inside without choking (or dying, at that).

Ivan made his way towards his destination with determinant strides, ignoring the aching of his bones and throbbing of his head. Once he found the right door, he tried to open it. Locked.

"Alfred? Are you in there?"

"Yeah, but please, don't come in!"

Ivan frowned. There was something not right about Alfred's voice, his calm tone unable to disguise the hint of undeniable hysteria. Gritting his teeth, he pulled back and let his full weight slam against the door.

Alfred yelped, after which he started pleading. "No no no, please Ivan don't come in, I don't want you to see me like this I don't want to hurt you I-"

With a final groan of effort, the tall man managed to successfully break down the only thing separating him from his partner. He stumbled inside, hands automatically shooting to his weapon as his gaze snapped from corner to corner. Then it fell upon the young American, and he froze.

Alfred was there all right. Huddled against the wall, his expression morbidly terrified, right hand clutching the very bloodied and mangled left arm. Ivan knew exactly what that meant.

Alfred had been bitten.

Alfred let out a gross sob as Ivan's hand trembled around his weapon. He knew what he had to do, what they had sworn to do, but how could he? How could he bring up the strength to pull the trigger? Alfred had been his partner for almost five years now, the only person left he cared about after his sisters had been killed by those wretched monsters.

He wasn't strong enough to do this.

"Please… Ivy please…"

"No."

"Please… You're the only one I can trust with this…"

Ivan could see the fear in those lovely blues. Alfred didn't want to die yet. Of course he didn't, he was far too young. And other than Ivan, he _did_ have family left to live for. Family he didn't want to murder, having changed into the beast they all feared.

Ivan fell to his knees, staring blankly at the floor. He didn't react when Alfred shakily crawled over to him, when a hand enclosed his own.

"Please."

The tall man closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath when the hand holding his weapon was lifted. He could feel it prod against something soft, and let out a growl. Alfred bit his lip as Ivan pulled back with such force he all but tipped over.

"I am not going to kill you, Alfred!"

"But you have to!" the other protested, finally regaining his fierceness as anger took over. The two man stared each other viciously in the eye, exchanging a mental debate.

 _We both knew this day could happen. We both know the dangers of our job._

 _That does not mean this is easy. That I want to do this._

"Ivan…"

And then, a strange glint appeared in Ivan's eyes.

"Together."

"Together?"

A nod. Ivan then continued to pull his other weapon, hidden on his back. He handed it to Alfred, and helped the younger press it against his temple.

"But- no! You, you still have to live, you can't just-"

Alfred was cut off by soft lips, a lick along the curves. Tears welled up in his eyes as his mouth formed a perfect O. Ivan's expression saddened. They understood.

Both men closed their eyes and leant in a final time as the guns were set in place. This is how they would die, connected in both body and mind, the string of their faiths forever intertwined.


	35. Mr Fluffy

Mr Fluffy

 **Ivan and Alfred are the worst cat-sitters.**

 **Rated K.**

~o~

"I can't find him Ivan, I can't find him!" "Keep looking, he has got to be around here somewhere!" Ivan scurried through the room, going to once more check in the kitchen cabinets while Alfred lifted up the couch with one hand to look underneath.

"He can't just be gone! He was here a minute ago! Dammit Braginsky, you look after the biggest country in the world and you can't even babysit a simple kitty?" Ivan re-emerged from the kitchen, expression set on horrified.

"Is not my fault! You distracted me! You are equally to blame here!"

Alfred rolled his eyes, then gasped. "MAYBE HE'S IN THE WALL!" After which he instantly punched the nearby wall, bursting a pipe in the process.

"Oh Mr Fluffy, if we cannot take care of you how will we ever be good parents?" Ivan said with a sigh of surrender, gripping his hair as he sagged to the couch.

"Wow wow wow hold on a minute there Ivan, who ever said we were gonna have kids? We're literal personifications of countries, remember?"

"I AM ALLOWED TO HAVE DREAMS ALFRED."

"THEY'RE MORE HALLUCINATIONS IF YOU ASK ME."

"But it is the next step right? People usually get pets when they want to practice for children- is that not why we agreed to this?"

Alfred blinked once, twice, eye twitching as he stared Ivan down. "No, we agreed to this because my boss was going on a holiday with his family and he thought it'd be nice if we had some bonding time with his cat."

Ivan chuckled darkly. "We are so lost you have become my voice of reason…"

"…I have no idea what you're going on about, but if we don't find that cat before my boss gets back I'm blaming you."

Ivan look at him with a shocked expression. "You traitor! After I covered for you when Putin found that shirt with memes of you and thought it was a direct attack upon my country! How could you Alfred, how could you repay me by stabbing me in the back?"

"IT'S NOT STABBING YOU IN THE BACK WHEN YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE WATCHING THE CAT."

"I WAS BUT THEN YOU DECIDED TO TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS WITHOUT WARNING AND BY THE WAY YOU STILL HAVE NOT TOLD ME WHY YOU DID THAT."

"IT'S BECAUSE-"

"Meow."

The reason to Alfred's strange taking-off-pants behaviour would never be revealed, as the two nations turned to their lost cat so fast it would have given humans a whiplash.

"MISTER FLUFFY YOU ARE ALIVE!"

"HEAVENS TO THE BETSY!"

And that is how they didn't get mauled for Christmas. The End.


	36. Christmas Sweaters

Christmas Sweaters

 **Ivan makes sweaters for the Allies.**

 **Rated K.**

~o~

"Has anyone seen Russia?"

England looked at his fellow allies, searching fora n explanation as to why the Nordic nation was absent. It was Christmas, but no one took the time to celebrate it this year. The war was taking up every last bit of their time, draining their energy and willpower.

France desperately needed a shave, China had huge bangs under his eyes, and America was practically asleep. Even that one guy – what was his name again? – looked absolutely dreadful.

And then suddenly the door burst open, Russia waltzing in like he hadn't just arrived fifteen minutes late.

"Russia! Where on earth were you?" England snapped, the pressure not doing anything for his usually sour mood.

Russia smiled his usual creepy smile, though it lost effect due to how hollow and bony his face looked nowadays. He placed a box on top of the meeting table, waking up America as it hit the surface.

"Wha-what's going on? What'd you got there big guy?"

"It better be something helpful," China mumbled, France merely leaning his chin in his hand.

Russia pulled out the top object and sprawled it over the table. Everyone stared. Someone coughed.

"What the bloody hell is that supposed to be?" England asked, frowning heavily.

"A sweater, _da_? It is Christmas after all. Look, I made one for everyone!"

He pulled out five more pieces of clothing, even getting one for Canada. Every sweater had a different symbol knitted into it; there was a rose, a panda, a maple leaf, an eagle, a teacup and a sunflower.

America pawed curiously at the things while England sat back down, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"Sweaters- for heaven's sake Russia, now is not the time to be knitting sweaters! We're at war!"

Russia turned towards him, smile strained as he gripped the table.

"I only thought everyone might need a little something to cheer them up. Do not think I have forgotten my duties, _Angliya_. I have suffered just as much as any of you, if not more."

His scarf slipped slightly from his shoulder, revealing fresh scars and signs of misfortune. The two nations glared at each other, Russia determined and England almost showing pity.

They were interrupted as America got up, took a few swift strides around the table, and pulled the tall man into a tight bear-hug.

" _A-Amerika_?" Russia yelped, bones grinding together as he gasped for air.

When the younger let loose he flashed a dazzling smile, the light having returned to his tired eyes.

"That's awesome dude! Ugly Christmas sweaters are seriously the best tradition ever! How'd you know?"

He walked back to the table and instantly began pulling on his sweater, gushing like an excited little kid.

"America," England sighed, "now is not the time for-"

"Come on, you too!"

England was abruptly cut off as America pulled a sweater over his head, the two struggling for a while as England tried to escape.

France was studying his own gift, smirk twitching up his lips.

" _Mon ami_ , I must say this is the ugliest thing I have ever seen."

Russia giggled a bit ominously, and France quickly shut up and dutifully pulled on his sweater. China laughed when he saw the horrified look on France's face when he glanced down. China's sleeves were too long, of course.

And as Canada and Russia pulled on their sweaters as well, America turned around to study them all – leaving England half-in half-out his confines.

"Merry Christmas you guys! And we'll make sure to kick those Axis guy's butt this year!"


	37. Seeing Red

Seeing Red

 **Alfred wants to claim Ivan as his prize for the night, but Ivan doesn't succumb so easily.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Vampire AU.**

~o~

"Gah!" Alfred stumbled backwards, holding a hand to his crooked nose. His prey of the evening was standing in the corner, expression wild and stance predatory. For a human he really knew how to hit.

"Come on big guy, just give up already. There's only one way this is gonna end, and that is with my teeth in your throat."

"You make it sound easy," Ivan panted, deranged grind setting his face alight as he closely followed Alfred's movements. "As if I will just give in, without a fight."

Alfred smiled, setting his nose back straight with a swift movement. It would heal within the next hour, leaving no trace of a fight. He lowered his eyelids as he slowly began advances upon his prey, circular movements bringing him closer and closer.

"Oh, but you will surrender, _babe_. You know, it won't hurt, not a single bit. In fact, I have heard humans find it quite… pleasurable, when a vampire bites them." He purred that word, and didn't miss the shiver travelling across Ivan's skin in reaction.

Ivan backed up until he was pressed against the wall, Alfred invading his personal space. The creature could hear his heart beating anxiously inside his chest, excitedly perhaps. Alfred was going to enjoy this. He hadn't chased Ivan all throughout the evening for nothing, following his trail from bar to bar, knowing the other was testing him.

With a single movement he had Ivan on his back. Straddling the man's hips, he used his supernatural strength to pin him to the ground with a low growl. Ivan arched his back in an attempt to break free, but to no avail.

"And now you are mine," Alfred sighed. In response, Ivan made eye-contact and licked his lips so tantalizingly slow it made Alfred see red.

"Show me what you got, _kotyonok_."

Alfred's senses went overdrive as he parted his lips and sunk his teeth into the other's porcelain-coloured neck.


	38. Singing In The Rain

Singing In The Rain

 **Two men find themselves running for shelter on a rainy evening.**

 **Rated K+.**

~o~

"Raindrops are falling on my head…" "Alfred please, not now."

They had left the house late in the afternoon with grey skies, but nothing directly indicating rain. After dinner and the play they had gotten tickets for to celebrate their fifth year anniversary, it raining cats and dogs. Not just your average cold and wet drizzle, but lukewarm sticky windy trash rain, as Alfred had so eloquently phrased it.

Of course they didn't have an umbrella. They only lived a few streets away from the entertainment district, which was bustling with cafes and restaurants, several hotels, a cinema and the theatre building. Who needs protection from the weather when you step outside and you're already halfway home?

They tried to share their warmth by clinging together, Alfred hidden inside Ivan's oversized trench coat, blinking at the rain drops obscuring his glasses. Ivan walked with large strides, hunched over and grumbling under his breath.

"Come on big guy, let's take shelter over there for a moment."

"We will be fine-"

"You're gonna get sick. Come on, just until the worst is over, then we can run the final few blocks."

They slid into an alleyway, coming to rest beneath someone's balcony. Alfred dislodged himself from Ivan while the other shook his head like a dog. The moment Alfred looked up, he snorted, then buckled over in laughter. Ivan stared down at him, sheepishly blinking his luminescent eyes.

"What? What is so funny?"

"You- you are! Just look at yourself!"

Of course Ivan couldn't look, but he could guess at the state of his appearance. His sort of hair easily curled and fluffed up when it became wet.

"Well, you aren't any better," he huffed, snaking one arm around the hysterically laughing American and drawing him in.

"Eeew, stay away from me, you're all wet and sticky!"

"You are too," Ivan laughed, pushing their bodies together and planting a kiss on the other's lips. "You know," he muttered once they pulled away, eyes huskily gliding over Alfred's huge grin, "I always call you my sun, but you look quite alluring in the rain."

Alfred's grin lessened to a playful smirk, arms draped around the other's neck.

"Then we should go out in the rain more often babe."

And after they kissed again, Alfred bellowed Singing in the Rain as loud as he could on the remainder of the road.


	39. Can You Hear Me?

Can You Hear Me?

 **Alfred loses something important after an accident.**

 **Rated T.**

~o~

"Alfred! Where are you?!" Ivan's incessant shouting was cut off by another coughing fit, one hand trying in vain to cover his mouth while the other kept holding his ribs. As soon as he could control himself again, the man looked up and once more looked around.

There was almost nothing left standing of the building they had spent the night in. Clouds of dust flying about, walls still crumbling as trash covered the entire area, pieces of wood and destroyed furniture and stones blocking his view.

"Alfred!" he called again, voice edging on desperation. He had lost his only friend during the attack, when they had to go into hiding to avoid the bomb coming mercilessly their way. Ivan had survived, but had Alfred as well?

No, he had to. He simply had to be here. Ivan needed him to survive, knew he couldn't get through this by himself. "Alfred!" There were tears in his eyes, and he kept telling himself it was because of the dust and sand. His ears were still ringing a bit from all the loud noises of earlier, and he had bruised a rib- if it wasn't broken, but he guessed not.

Finally, he saw something moving out of the corner of his eyes. "Alfred!" He rushed to the other's side, finding a hand sticking from under what were once the stairs. Ignoring the pain in his chest, he used everything he had to lift the wood from his friend, gritting his teeth and groaning and panting by the time he finished. His vision swam, but Alfred was more important.

The other lay on the ground, coughing and body grey with ashes and dirt. His glasses were broken, but they would be able to fix that, just like they had fixed everything.

"Alfred." Ivan sighed in relief, kneeling down next to his friend to help him sit up. He was tearing up for a very different reason now. The other flinched when he briefly touched his back, looking at him with big frightened eyes.

"What is wrong?" Alfred looked at his lips, watched them move, then gripped his arms in alarm.

"Ivan," he said, voice cracking in weird places. It was only then that Ivan noticed the treacherous red lines streaming down his ears.

No.

"Alfred, Alfred can you hear me?"

Alfred bit his lip, nose scrunching up when his panic rose. He was shaking, chest heaving with suppressed hysteria. Something inside of Ivan broke, and he held the other close to his chest.

"Ssssh, it is going to be okay, please don't cry, I am here, we- we can fix this, we can fix this…"

But Alfred couldn't hear him. He couldn't hear anything.


	40. Prank

Prank

 **America and Russia think it's time to prank France.**

 **Rated K.**

~o~

France and Russia were having some casual chitchat as they strolled down the hallway when it happened.

"Francis, think fast!"

Francis turned his head and felt his jaw dropping. He only had just enough time to duck his head when a rugby ball came flying directly at his head. This resulted in said ball hitting Russia's crane instead, making the man fall to the ground.

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Alfred immediately shouted, rushing to the other's side and pushing France out of the way as he passed by.

"Alfred? What is happening?" the Frenchman asked, thoroughly confused.

"Can't you see?!" Alfred yelled at him in a dramatic voice, cradling Ivan's head as he put it gently in his lap. "Because you can't think fast you killed Russia! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEATH OF A NATION FRANCIS!"

" _Quoi_ \- no no no, he cannot possibly be death!" France said jokingly, nervous sweat breaking out. "See, he is waking up!"

Alfred let out a yelp as Ivan blinked himself awake, the two blonds kneeling down over Russia's fallen body. "Al-fred? Why am I on the ground?"

"It's okay babe," Alfred hushed him, big soppy tears streaming down his eyes, "France killed you, but it's okay."

France sent him a skeptical look, but quickly glanced back when Ivan spoke again.

"I can see white light… It is beautiful, comrades… I, I am-"

"No, don't go towards the light!" Alfred yelled dramatically.

"I… I can… not…"

Francis was completely perplexed when the other let out a final gurgle and closed his eyes, body falling limp. "He- he cannot be-"

"ARE YOU HAPPY NOW FRANCIS?! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS! YOU KILLED THE LOVE OF MY LIFE DAMMIT! GO AHEAD, LAUGH! THIS WAS YOUR PLAN ALL ALONG RIGHT?"

France shook his head, "You have got to be kidding me-"

"OH PLEASE, DON'T GIVE ME THAT BULLCRAP! GO ON, YOU CAN BE THE ONE TO CALL PUTIN! I AIN'T DEALING WITH HIS COUNTRY FALLING APART!"

Francis went pale while he scrambled to his feet. "O-okay, I shall… _Oui_ , let me call his boss…" A bit dazed he went to the other hand of the hallway and pulled out his cell. He had no idea what to tell the other. That he killed the largest country on earth by ducking for a ball…? It was simply ridiculous. He swallowed and put the phone to his ear.

Meanwhile, Alfred had already helped Ivan up, the two giggling like the big dorks they were as they wandered off into the other direction.


	41. Jealous?

Jealous?

 **Alfred finally gets the chance to take Ivan on a date, but there are some minor issues to deal with.**

 **Rated K+.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

Finally, at long last! Alfred was buzzing with excitement as he rearranged his shirt so that it fully covered his stomach area, and only cursed a little bit when that stubborn cowlick on top of his coup of gold refused to stay put. No matter, no matter! Today, such minor annoyances simply couldn't bother him. After all, he was finally going on a date with his crush of about three years! All that time of pining after and swooning at the mere thought of pale marble skin and platinum hair and inhumanly pretty purple eyes had been worth it. He'd finally (finally!) mustered up enough courage to walk over to Ivan, boldly slam his fists down onto the table at which he was seated, and ask him out. Ivan said yes. No explanation needed, none whatsoever. Thus the reason of Alfred's extraordinarily good mood.

Whistling a jolly tune to himself, he strutted over to the park where he and Ivan had agreed to meet up for their date. He had it all planned out- first a walk through the walk with some ice cream, he had made dinner reservations in one of their town's best restaurants (there went his money), and later on they could go stargazing to top it off. It was going to be an amazing day!

"Hello Alfred."

Alfred turned around with a wide grin, ready to say hello back. The grin froze around his lips once he saw that Ivan had brought some friends with. Some female friends which were being very affectionate towards him.

Ivan had an apologetic look in his eyes. "Sorry, my sister was supposed to go shopping with her friends today, but she was called back for work at the last minute. You do not mind the extra company right?"

One girl had her arms draped possessively around Ivan's arms, another was sizing Alfred up with a better-than-thou look in her venomous green eyes. Alfred's grin didn't falter, even though his eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"No, of course not! Well, you ready to go?"

Oh no. Alfred didn't mind the extra company on his very special date with Ivan one single bit. He didn't mind the competition, nor that he literally had to fight to get a few words in with all their chattering. Or that he now had to buy four people ice cream instead of two. Or that he crushed his own cone after seeing one of the girls "accidentally" touching Ivan's butt. Nope, he did NOT mind at all. Especially not since Ivan kept sending him these pitying looks, as if he knew the girls' presence was ruining their date, but he couldn't do anything about it. Still, he refused to let them ruin his date.

"Hey, I made us reservations at the restaurant…" He sent the other a hopeful glance, ignoring the cool glares he got from the women hanging from each arm.

"Ah… Could you perhaps make it so that we can all go? Reserve extra chairs?"

Alfred wasn't sure he was able to hide the twitching of his eye at that moment. "N-no, I don't think I can do that actually… It's quite a popular place, and it's already for like, in one hour so…" He shrugged, wildly gesticulating. "Sorry, but they'll have to-"

"Ivy, can't we just go somewhere else instead?" one of the girls pouted, while the other pulled softly at his arm. Alfred wanted to kill them right then and there, but kept smiling as Ivan sent him an apologetic look. "Alfred, do you mind…?"

Yes, he did mind, he minded VERY MUCH. But he wasn't going to say that to Ivan. Which is why one hour later, instead of sharing a romantic dinner for two by candlelight, the four of them had taken place in the local McDonald's. Alfred silently wept as he munched on his cheeseburger, for once not finding pleasure in his favourite greasy treat. All his plans were going down the drain. Another two hours later, and they were standing in the cinema. Alfred's mood had all but been crushed by the girls' constant tittering and giggling and occupying his Russian, but hey! At least now they could watch that new horror flick he'd waited an eternity for!

...Not. Not only did they go to a stupid chick flick instead, Ivan's sister's friends took up both spaces beside him, leaving Alfred to sulk with a coke and some popcorn by himself. Alfred hadn't had a single chance to freely talk to Ivan about anything at all, and his heart was spilling hatred and jealousy every time one of them touched him, or brought their lips to his ear to whisper something to him. Alfred was defeated. There was no way Ivan showed interest in him, not with that attitude. He deflated in his chair as the main couple of the film finally came together. That wasn't going to happen to them…

After the film was done, Alfred walked behind the trio with his hands in his pockets as Ivan went to drop the girls off at home. He was silent when Ivan returned to his side, offering to walk him home as well.

The two didn't say a single word to one another while crossing several streets, Ivan only stopping Alfred when they were almost at his house. Alfred turned to him, still looking sullenly at his feet.

"Is there something you-" His breath caught in his throat when a hand captured his chin and tilted his head up, and he was certain he could feel his heart come to a complete halt when a soft pair of lips covered his. It was only a tiny kiss, lasted for just a few seconds at max. But by the time Ivan pulled back, Alfred had such a dreamy expression on his face it was like he'd died and gone to heaven.

"Sorry," Ivan said, "for letting them ruin our date… I know you wanted to do this for a long time. But thank you, for enduring it. My sister's friends can be quite the handful."

Alfred blinked, then grinned. "Oh! Oh no, not a problem at all! Anytime, big guy! Sure!" His grin was already huge but grew still when he saw Ivan smile.

"So, shall we try this again next week?" he asked, snowy bangs falling in front of his eyes as he tilted his head. Alfred nodded enthusiastically, and then they said their goodbyes. With a skip in his step, Alfred turned around and walked up to his house. Best date ever.


	42. My Milkshake Brings All the Boys

My Milkshake Brings All the Boys

 **In which Alfred takes a liking to a new bar, or is it the barista he's interested in?**

 **Rated K+.**

 **Coffeeshop AU.**

~o~

" _Again,_ Alfred?" Matthew asked incredulously, raising an eyebrow when his brother merely laughed and waved his protests away.

"Come on Mattie, I already told you! They have literally the _best_ milkshakes at that bar, can't get any better!"

Matthew's expression still read suspicion. He knew Alfred was fond of sweets and sugary drinks, but to visit that same bar almost every day? "Do you even have the money for that?"

"Psht, of course I do!" Alfred continued in that boisterous tone. He tried distinctly to ignore the silent weeping of his rapidly slinking wallet. But hey, it was worth it! "Okay, be right back!" He waved the other goodbye before jogging towards the bar in question; one of the coffee and other warm and cold drinks variant.

A jolly jingle announced his arrival, and the man behind the counter looked up. Alfred's heart stopped when he saw those (beautiful) eyes lit up in recognition, smile growing, almost too blinding to stare at.

"Welcome. How may I help you?" that divine creature began, ever courteous.

Alfred took a moment longer to stare, then quickly darted forward. "Uh yeah, I'll have the-"

"Chocolate milkshake with extra whipped cream?" the barista known as Ivan filled in for him, smile brightening when Alfred nodded sheepishly. And the reason that Alfred knew of Ivan's name, was because of a particular note he had left him several days ago.

He could still distinctly remember the first day he had visited the establishment. Wandering in like a lost sheep, Ivan had been his saviour with cakes and warm cocoa. And a note, that read in a fine curly handwriting, _To the man who reminds me of the sun._

Naturally, Alfred had returned the day after. This time, the note read _To the boy who managed to lose his way and end up in the same bar twice._

He came again. And again. Figured out the other's schedule. Of course got his name, somewhere along the way. And still, there was something cautious about his visits, as if flirting would be overstepping boundaries, asking for the other's number like writing his own death sentence. After all, he was just a customer. Maybe Ivan was that nice to everyone who came here.

And yet, as the bright-eyed man handed him his milkshake, he swore he could feel their fingers brush just a little longer than necessary.


	43. I'm Right Here

I'm Right Here

 **Ivan tries desperately to feel the touch that isn't there, to hear the voice of the one he once loved.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Human AU.**

 **Contains: Implied character death.**

~o~

Ivan hit the back of his head against the wall. Repeatedly, following the monotone ticking of the only clock hanging in his room. One, two, three, four… Any moment now…

A soft hand could be felt slipping between the wall and his brazen skull, stopping his rhythmic bashing. Ivan smiled pleasantly, eyes closed. He knew what was to come next.

"Ivan," a sultry voice whispered in is ear, bringing back memories of hot summer days and melting ice cream and dried wheat-coloured grassy fields.

Small kisses where placed on his cheek, jawline, the tip of his nose, the spot between his eyebrows, the corner of his mouth. He wanted to respond, but knew that would only break the spell.

He loved these moments, yet feared them all the same. The moments when Alfred visited, when his warmth was so real he could hold it in his arms, he knew he could.

Hot tears slipped from under his closed eyelids.

"Don't cry babe…"

The words were there, caressing his pale skin. He could taste his voice, feel it crawl into his veins. He wanted to embrace his lover, hold him close and never let go.

"Sssssh. I'm right here Ivy."

"Don't leave," he whispered, yet as soon as the words left him he knew it wasn't to last.

"I'll stay right here, I promise." He swore he could hear the smile on Alfred's face.

Yet when he finally opened his eyes, shuddering and letting out shaky sobs, no one was there.

No one could have been there.

For his beloved had been dead for three months.


	44. The United States of Alfred

The United States of Alfred

 **Alfred wants Ivan to call him by his first name.**

 **Rated K.**

~o~

"Are you going to finish your meal, _Amerika_?"

 _There._ There it was again. America. The country he embodied. Not Alfred, or dearest or baby or whatever, not even a simple Jones. But America.

Blue eyes carefully observed the man before him, even as he declined the offer of more food with a simple gesture of the hand. The Russian Federation. Ivan Braginsky. His boyfriend, since several months now. Not that they were a very… typical couple. It had taken them years to get together, to start with. They had lived through wars and an amicable letter-writing phase and secret flirtation crushed under the giant boot of the twentieth century's harsh reality. They had lived through so much, overcome so many obstacles, and here they were, finally allowed a taste of happiness.

Only, apparently that happiness wasn't for themselves. It was for their countries.

"Say Russia," he began, leaning his cheek against the palm of his right hand. "What would you do if I jumped off a cliff?"

A pale brow rose- he had both loved and hate the other's quirks over the centuries, but that particular gesture always made something in his gut squeeze into a tight, jittery knot.

"And why would you do that, _Amerika_?" he spoke in that accented tongue of his- rough notes mixed in with odd high pitches, making for a musical ballad that beckoned for his soul.

"The question isn't _why_ I do the things I do, it's how you'd react to them, _Russia_ ," Alfred pointed out, eyes shooting up and down his partner's figure, searching for any reaction. When he didn't get the ones he so desired, he pursued further discussion of the topic. "Or what, would Russia not catch his boyfriend if he were to fall to his death, Russia?"

The pale man rubbed at his temples, sending him a bemused smirk. "We are nations, Amerikanski. We cannot fall to our deaths. That would be very silly."

Alfred frowned, growing agitated. "Well then RUSSIA, maybe I am just a silly little country, or a really big one- but I guess that's all there is to me!"

"Amerika, what are you going on about?" Ivan sighed, brow scrunched together and a sudden tiredness falling over his face. "Fine. If you were to jump off a cliff, I would catch you. And then I would kick your butt you for doing such reckless things."

Alfred always used to love when Ivan tried out American sayings and slang, it was hilarious to listen to. But right now, he only had ear for one particular word. Again, America. The name of his country. Not of himself.

He groaned, dropping his head to the table. What was with him? He should know it wasn't easy for the both of them to simply go back to being on first name basis after so many years of distrust and rivalry! Surely they had used Alfred and Ivan in the past, when he was much younger and much more innocent, but even now he wondered if Ivan hadn't only agreed to doing that to humour that silly young colony from across the sea. They _were_ countries, and nothing would ever change that. But sometimes, it just felt nice pretending to be humans instead.

A creaking sound, a rush of clothes, and suddenly there was a presence behind him. Alfred closed his eyes when he felt cold fingers ghost along his cheek.

" _Amerika._ "

He refused to open his eyes. The tone which he used was much more gentler than when he had called him that in the past, so much was true. But it was still not the name he wanted to hear fall from those thin lips, the name that would prove their current intimacy.

"What?" he spoke against the tabletop, trying to make it sound like he wasn't pouting over something.

"There is something bothering you."

"What are you talking about? No there's not."

" _Da._ There is. I can tell. I have known you for long enough to be able to tell."

The frown increased. _But apparently you haven't known me long enough to call me by my actual name._

Some shifting, a pressure along his spine, hot breath at his ear. "Amerika… Is that really what bothers you?"

...He really needed to put a cork in his mouth sometimes. Shifting his head to the side so he could look Russia in the eye, he stubbornly denied any troubles. "No, nothing ever bothers me. I told you, I'm fine!"

Russia stared down at him with that familiar calmth, as if he was contemplating an ingenious idea. Alfred had seen it plastered on his features so many times, both in good and bad situations, both as an ally and a foe. That was a difference between them- Russia thought too much, while people often told Alfred he thought too little. Not that they actually took the time to get to know him, but he could see where they were coming from.

Long well-defined fingers carding through his golden locks, Alfred laid his head back down and closed his eyes, waiting for the preach that was bound to come, about how it was difficult to find trust after so much hardships, they had to give themselves timeeee, and yade yade yade. He didn't want time, he wanted love and affection! And he knew Ivan was capable of it, he _knew._

No preach came. Instead of it, a soft pair of lips gingerly fluttering against his cheekbone, temple, earlobe. A soft chuckle.

"If you say so, Alfred."

And then the pressure was gone.

Alfred shot up faster than the speed of light, staring at the other with wide eyes and hanging jaw, utterly befuddled. "Did you just- you did, didn't you?"

Ivan merely smiled, one of those teasing sneers, yet eyes gentle. "You heard nothing, Amerikanski."

Alfred took a moment longer to recover, before his own lips twitched up in a grin. "Oh yeah you did!"

Ivan giggled, walking back to his own seat so he could begin emptying the table to make room for dessert. "My lips are sealed~"

Yet they didn't stay sealed when Alfred continued to say his name in every possible manner he could think of.


	45. Romeo, Oh Romeo

Romeo, Oh Romeo

 **Love is bittersweet in pantomime.**

 **Rated T.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

"No, stop, they'll find out!" Alfred gasped when those thin lips returned to his neck, nipping at the reddened flesh. Every time he attempted to push the other off, he found himself gripping tighter instead, pulling roughly at those fine snowy locks, wanting nothing more than get rid of those ridiculously complicated costumes.

Ivan moaned softly against his neck, hand travelling over the thigh of a leg he had hooked behind his hips. In the background, they could hear the audience applaud, indicating the end of another act.

"Y-you have to leave," Alfred panted, trying to keep himself from drowning in all the wonderful sensations. "T-they may not miss a mere passerby, but the absence of the leading role will definitely raise some questions…"

Ivan grunted, obviously displeased at having to leave his prey behind, work of art unfinished. He finally stopped his assault on Alfred's neck, raising his head to sullenly frown down at the blond. "I still believe you should have gotten the role instead. You would make for a much finer Romeo."

Alfred shrugged, trying to catch his breath. "I was sick on the day of the audition, remember? Besides…" He let his fingers lightly travel up a broad chest. "You look mighty fine yourself."

A female voice floated all the way backstage. Quite the feat actually, having a female actress playing the role of a woman. Alfred didn't think that could have been possible in the era when this play was first shown to the public.

"Go," he urged his partner on, "Go do your balcony scene."

Ivan's expression was still highly annoyed, but softened into something gentler as he kissed his secret lover goodbye. "Every word I utter shall be addressed to you," he whispered against his lips, before composing himself and appearing on the stage.

Despite the promise, Alfred couldn't bear to witness the scene. It would only remind him that they had no future.


	46. At Last

At Last

 **Finally they are reunited.**

 **Rated T.**

~o~

Alfred's heart was pounding in his throat as he frantically attempted to gaze over the heads of those surrounding him. "Ivan!" he called, distress making his voice high-pitched and panicky, "Ivan, where are you?!"

He couldn't be gone, Alfred couldn't have lost him! Not after months, years even, of not seeing him, he couldn't possibly miss him on the day they were finally to meet again. Where was he, where was he? He had to be around here somewhere, he simply had to?

"Ivan, you piece of shit!" he shouted, voice going lost in the masses, choked back tears sticking thickly down his throat, suffocating. Until finally, there- a head of ashen blond sticking above the rest.

"Ivan!" Alfred shouted again, beginning to madly elbow and wriggle his way through the crowds, feeling his body bruise and being shoved aside and pushed back, but he had to get there, he had to see if it was really him!

And then he turned, and two beautiful soft purple eyes gazed down upon him, wide and astonished, before softening.

"Alfred," was the word his mouth formed, no sound reaching the boy as he continued to struggle against the flow, they were pushing back, crowding him, he wasn't going to get there-!

And then a strong hand yanked him up by the collar, and he almost painfully collided with the other's body in a hug that was both desperately needed and satisfyingly rib-crushing.

Alfred gasped for breath as he clawed his hands to Ivan's back, unable to reach around all the way, twisting the fabric of his vest into trembling fingers, making fists that were more shards of glass than human flesh. His heart beat wildly inside its house as Ivan lifted him easily off the ground, bending him over in an almost impossible angle as his own back bent under the weight of their loss, oh, how much they'd missed each other. He was trembling, whether it be with joy or misery God only knew, burying his nose into golden locks for a deep gasp of that once and still familiar scent before clamping Alfred's jaw and mashing their faces together.

The kiss could barely be called that, more teeth and salty tears and breaths that didn't belong to the living, lips being cut and blood smearing their chins, neither noticing, neither caring. There was only each other, blue onto amethyst, cold hands scratching warm hips, words and emotions failing them.


	47. Little Birdie

Little Birdie

 **Alfred takes his time marveling at his lover's majestic wings.**

 **Rated K.**

 **Wingtalia AU.**

~o~

"May I?"

"You may."

Ivan held perfectly still as curious hands feathered along his platinum-coloured wings. He never quite understood Alfred's fascination with his wings; the only thing special about them was that they were among the largest set in their village. No, Alfred's were much more fascinating. An almost golden hue, making them shimmer as he flew up to the sun. Alfred really did resemble the sun, with his sunny attitude and darkening freckled tan.

Ivan lightly squirmed as Alfred stroked along his wings, feeling safe and warm and relaxed. He looked over his shoulder when the boy lifted up one wing, crawling under it.

"Done already?" he asked bemusedly, purring as the smaller creature curled up at his side.

"I really should take advantage of having you as a boyfriend more," Alfred giggled, wrapping himself in his own wings and pulling Ivan's closer to his body, making a small little nest for himself.

Ivan leant in closer, nuzzling in his hair. "It is hardly taking advantage of me when I am letting you," he hummed, closing his wings around Alfred, a protective cocoon for his beloved mate.

Alfred played with a small silvery feather sticking from Ivan's organ. "Is it almost moulting time again?" he asked, trying to flatten it out. The feather instead let loose, fluttering to the ground, only to be gingerly plucked from the air by Alfred's skillful hand.

Ivan hummed again, cuddling even closer. "I suppose. Time for itchiness and constant annoyance."

Alfred nudged his forehead against the other's jawline. "And time for lots of bathing. Together." He laughed when the other growled, pinning him to the ground. He smiled as he looked up at the looming figure of his boyfriend, a stark contrast to the dark blue skies. Ivan's head was positioned in such a way that the sun formed a halo behind his head, and he perfectly resembled an angel with those lean wings held up.

"You have such scandalous thoughts, _ptitsa_."

"Only around you, babe," Alfred teased, grinning when the other lowered himself for a kiss.


	48. Distractions of the Phallic Variant

Distractions of the Phallic Variant

 **Only Alfred knows how to make a huge distraction out of eating a corn dog.**

 **Rated M for implications.**

~o~

His own sober meal lay long forgotten on the tray before him, the tea well on its way to cooling off completely. Ivan feigned indifference as he leant his chin into his right hand, fingers strategically covering the thin lips as he occasionally felt the tip of pink pry them apart to dart over the soft surface. His other hand lay on top of his knee, balled into a tight fist, wishing it had something to hold onto. His legs were tensely drawn together, only a crowbar having the chance of tearing them open to reveal how… interesting he found the display before him. Darkened amethysts honed in on the man seated across from him, all but unblinking. He should _not_ be turned on by this. And yet, here they were.

Ivan hadn't thought anything of it when Alfred had asked him if that seat was taken. _No_ , he had informed him, _you can sit if you want to._ Alfred had flashed him a telltale smile - really, he should have been suspicious to his intentions from that exact moment, but had decided it was a mere fling of his imagination and let it slide - and pulled the chair back with a lot of noise. His other hand was holding one of those greasy snacks he so desired, the golden brown crust piled atop a small stick making Ivan's insides churn. He happily continued eating his own lunch of a thick, healthy broth with black bread, when his eyes flickered up and witnessed… whatever this was.

Alfred was slightly leaning over the table, arm casually placed atop the surface to support his weight as he ate his "corn dog" (not an actual dog)... or, perhaps "ate" was the wrong word. People didn't eat that which they admired like a deity, and that was exactly the look Alfred reserved for this deep fried snack.

His blue eyes were hooded into a dazed contentedness, staring almost fondly at the snack which he held before him. Any moment now, Ivan expected him to burst into song or poem, praising his food for its deliciousness and… strangely phallus-shaped baked crispiness. That, however, wasn't even half as bad as what he did with his _mouth_.

Instead of just biting down on his meal, devouring it like he would any other, Alfred seemed to opt for a much slower approach with this devilish _thing_. First wetting his lips, he only used his tongue to give small swift licks to the top of the corn dog, swiping away the smallest layer of crust. After each five licks, his tongue darted over his mouth again, only succeeding in adding a small layer of grease to his plump lips, having them glisten in the bright shine of the fluorescent lighting.

Then, for some reason, still not biting, he tipped his head slightly to the side and started mouthing his way up and down the side of the snack, incorporating more small licks and happy hums, eyes narrowing further in what could only be described as a borderline erotic bliss. Something had tightened in Ivan's gut when he witnessed that scandalous behaviour, the first warning that he should have looked away to save his own, innocent soul. But alas, he didn't. Against better judgement, he continued to watch each and every move Alfred made, the squirming inside growing more intense.

After Alfred went up to the top again, he took in between his lips, giving languid suckles as his eyelashes fluttered along his cheekbones. He practically _moaned_ as he took it in further, letting his tongue swirl along the wettened crust. He pulled off again with an all but obscene wet plop, a string of saliva still connecting him and the treat. He lapped lazily at the tip- _top_ of the corn dog, and Ivan flushed when he imagine that strong muscle being pressed to a much more intimate place…

He quickly coughed into his hand when Alfred looked over, hoping his feelings couldn't be read from the slight pink dusting his cheeks or the faint quivering of his hands. Alfred _had_ to know what he was doing, there was simply no other way. Scraping his throat, he gave Alfred a jerky nod.

"Are you not going to eat that?" he asked coolly, keeping his voice as much in check as humanly possible.

Alfred once more swiped that rapturing tongue of his along slightly plush lips, reddened as if he'd been softly chewing on them ( _or someone had been kissing him breathless_ ). "Eating… I thought that was exactly what I was doing?" he asked in a hoarsened voice that sent a shudder traveling down Ivan's spine.

Then he took it one step beyond, once more wrapping his lips around the tiptop of his lunch, taking in as much as he could, not even scraping his teeth along the surface as he pulled back off with short bobs of the head.

That was enough.

Ivan slammed his hands down onto the table, alerting both Alfred and those present at their neighbouring tables. With a few swift strides he had leapt around the table, yanked Alfred up by his collar, and thrown him over his shoulder.

Leaving the canteen were one angry Russian, mumbling about stupid sexy Americans and pants that were much too tight, and one very, _very_ pleased-looking American, finally finishing his corn dog with a few simple bites.


	49. Sunflowers and Blood-Curling Screams

Sunflower and Blood-Curling Screams

 **In which florist Ivan only partially regrets buying the building next to Alfred's tattoo shop.**

 **Rated K+.**

 **Human AU.**

~o~

" _Privet_ dear, what can I-" "GYAAAAAAH!" "…what can I get you?"

Ivan's smile only slightly strained as the poor old lady before him whipped her head around, looking for the source of all those pained screams. How many times now had he had to explain to his customers that no, he did not have a torture room in the back, the walls between his shop and the one next-door were simply very thin, and well, this is what you got for becoming the owner of a store located right next to a tattoo parlour. _Especially_ when the owner of said parlour liked to scare his customers by being much too enthusiastic about sticking a needle into their skin. But so far, he'd managed.

He managed and managed and managed, smiling as he attempted to sell sunflowers and lilies with the occasional background scream for bloody murder. Until finally, no more customers were in sight, and he slumped over the counter, particularly exhausted. It was about closing time for his shop, but Alfred would continue to work for another hour and a half. And suddenly, he felt like paying that masked sadist a little visit.

Which is why ten minutes later, a jingle could be heard as he walked through the door and into a rather stuffy room, his apron hung neatly next to his coat and the sign turned to closed at his own shop's door. He looked around, feeling rather bemused, at the pictures of dragons and skulls and the occasional fairy-tale creature.

Footsteps could be heard, and he turned just in time to see the sunny blond approaching, as always dressed in a sleeveless tank top, drying his hands on some paper towels.

"Yo big guy! Finally here to get a tattoo huh?" He leant forward, eyes raving over his body, suddenly giving him the need to cover up somehow. "I'll have to admit it's weird not seeing you with your frilly pink apron, or surrounded by daisies."

Ivan sent him a cool gaze, all quirked eyebrows and darkened amethysts. "I simply came to ask you why you feel the need to have all your clients scream like they are in a horror film."

Alfred let out a single bark of laughter (and was he flexing his muscles? Or did Ivan just imagine the slight dusting of pink on his cheeks when his eyes quickly shot away, looking quite caught?) "Not my fault! I'm always extremely careful, and no one's ever walked out of here complaining! It's just, you know…" He shrugged, grin suddenly more sheepish. "I guess they don't really get my sense of humour." He once more looked at Ivan, suddenly having a quite curious glint to his amazing blues. "You sure you don't want a tattoo?"

Ivan shook his head with a small smile. " _Nyet._ I do not feel the need to accessorize my body, thank you."

"We got flowers too, you know," Alfred insisted. "Roses, violets… sunflowers…"

Ivan had just been about to leave and close up the shop, when that single word tingled in the air, piquing his interest. He looked back at Alfred, eyes narrowed. "How do you know that sunflowers are my favourite?"

Alfred grinned, shaking his head (the pink spreading). "You just told me! I was just making suggestions. Well? What'd you think? You could be the ultimate flower shop owner." He made it sound like a grand money prize.

Ivan paused for just a second to contemplate the image of a small sunflower, perhaps located cutely on his right shoulder. A second was all Alfred needed.

Before the gentle giant knew it, he was being herded down some sort of hallway, brought to a room with a black leather chair and even more pictures on the wall.

"Wait- I did not, I have not yet decided-"

"Come on sweet pea, I'm sure it'll look great on ya!" Alfred continued to babble, chatting on and on about how cool Ivan would look covered in tattoos.

Ivan tried to rise from the chair, but was firmly pushed down again as Alfred thrust a book with pictures into his hands.

"See?" he said, pointing at all the sunflower designs he had. "There's big ones, small ones, these can cover your entire arm, there's different colour schemes…"

"Did you make these yourself?" Ivan asked, audibly impressed by the other's handiwork.

Alfred grinned shyly, shrugging one shoulder. "It's no biggie. I have lots of free time. Okay, but let me take a look-"

He began, by lack of a better term, thoroughly feeling up Ivan's arm, attempting to pull up (or down?) his sleeve. Ivan wasn't having it.

"Hey- I still haven't- get your hands off my arm!"

Alfred let go for only a moment, but leant down with what only could be described as the most devilish puppy expression Ivan had ever witnessed. For just a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

"I'll make sure it looks amazing," Alfred promised- and _why was his lower lip quivering?_

"I…" Ivan stuttered, blinking rapidly. "I… okay?" He had forgotten what he was agreeing with.

Making full use of that moment of weakness, Alfred roughly pulled down Ivan's sleeve, baring his shoulder. Ivan yelped, but was blatantly ignored.

"Yeah see- you have amazing skin for this! Just look, the colours of this design would perfectly contrast your skin!"

He ordered Ivan to take off the rest of his shirt himself, and Ivan hesitated just a moment longer, but really, that was indeed a very nice sunflower. He was actually starting to feel a bit giddy, wanting to have a small cute decoration there, something he could show off to his sisters, that could give him an excuse to wear sleeveless shirts on hot summer days, and perhaps, one day, something a lover could stroke their fingers along…

Blushing at those intrusive thoughts, he robotically lifted his shirt over his head, not seeing the way Alfred's smile grew as patches of naked skin were revealed.

"Wonderful!" the blond exclaimed, clasping his hands together. "Just lie back and relax, big guy, I'll make you beautiful! I mean, not that you aren't already- I'm not talking in a gay way or anything, just from an aesthetic point of view…" He vaguely gestured about, before deciding to shut the hell up and get to work.

Everything went fine. From the disinfecting, to drawing the outlines with which Alfred would be working, to idle chitchat, to getting his things ready. (And when Ivan made a comment about how he was making the other work after-hours, Alfred merely shrugged it off.)

It was only when the needle came into play that Ivan felt a bit apprehensive once again. He wasn't easily frightened, nor did he have a weak stomach. But there was just something about that devious grin, the way Alfred confidently held that sharp object, as if he was about to jab it straight into his arm, as if he wanted to scar him-

"On second thought," Ivan said, "I really think I should sleep on this-"

"Nonsense! You'll be fine!" Alfred insisted, placing a steady hand on his arm, bringing the needle closer. "It'll only hurt a little, I promise. Nothing you can't handle."

"No, _Alfred_ , I mean it-"

And just then, when the needle was about to make contact with his skin, Ivan reflexively pulled away. He yelped when he felt something sharp scrape along his porcelain skin, hissing at the burn it left behind. _Shit._

Alfred's mouth fell open, expression growing from calm and confident to remorseful and panicky. "Oh my God I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, I, you shouldn't have pulled away-" It was obvious this didn't usually happen to him, which meant that Ivan was being a difficult customer. Great.

"Maybe you can kiss it better," Ivan said dryly, as he attempted to hide to small flare of anger he felt- he hadn't wanted a stupid tattoo anyway in the first place! Stupid Alfred, with his boundless confidence and his handsome smirk and teasing jabs and, and strong muscles…

Ivan's eyes widened when the other instantly bent forward and let his lips brush along the red line he'd left behind. Ivan jerked back a second time, more out of surprise than anything.

"I'm so, so sorry, wait- I'll get some more disinfectant…" He stood up and turned around, not noticing how Ivan's cheeks had grown several shades darker after he had performed that small act of kindness. Or perhaps the reason he couldn't look him in the eye was because he himself resembled a boiled lobster.


	50. Unfair

Unfair

 **Alfred is desperate to win his date a teddy bear.**

 **Rated K.**

~o~

*ding*

"Dangit!"

*ding*

"Son of a-"

*ding*

"Okay, this game is totally rigged!"

Alfred threw his last ring down with a ferocious growl, thoroughly worked up over the fact that he simply couldn't get any of them to fit nicely over the peg. Every attempt had ended in failure, leaving him frustrated and all but ring-less.

The melodious giggle of his date didn't help to calm him down in the least. Ivan appeared by his side to plant a firm hand on his shoulder, the other holding an ice cream cone Alfred had bought him right before coming to this stand.

"Is not that bad, Alfred." He always loved the way that foreign tongue stumbled over the pronunciation of his name, ad difficulty with the r following directly on the f. "You cannot always win." His warm smile was both reassuring and teasing, mostly the latter.

Alfred stomped his feet, then pointed a finger above them. "But I was gonna win you that bear and have you swoon over the awesomest boyfriend ever!"

Ivan squinted, tilted his head. Quickly licked away some stray drops of vanilla travelling towards his thumb. "Which one?"

"That one!" Alfred stressed, pointing even more insistently. "The big one with the scarf! But you have to get a hundred points for that, and I can't. Fucking. Get it with how rigged this stupid game is!"

Ivan absentmindedly touched the scarf donning his own neck, light violet eyes finally spotting the aforementioned stuffed animal. "Looks more like a rabbit than a bear…" he mused aloud, but Alfred could tell he was touched by the gesture. Which made him even more angry that the rings wouldn't fit.

He even was about to call the manager, sue the whole fair, whatever it took to get that stupid plush that wasn't even that appealing to him anymore (but it was to Ivan, and that was all that counted), when his date looked down, perfectly beaming with glee.

"If you want to give me a gift to cuddle with, we can always put a scarf on you instead."

Alfred paused in his fury, stopped, rewinded. Blinking slowly, he looked up at that stunning image of self-satisfaction, the tall man nodding to himself as if he'd made an ingenious observation.

"Say what now."

The other's expression turned more sly, tongue taking a languid lick of the cone while his free hand playfully ruffled Alfred's hair. "I do not need stuffed animal when I have you."

Alfred had been busy swatting at Ivan's hands when those words entered his mind, made a cosy nest inside his head. Cheeks colouring a deep pink, he huffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm not a plush, and definitely not one you can win at a fair."

He continued to mumble about crazy Russians and their strange ideas even as Ivan reeled him in, eyes hooded and smile secretive. " _You_ are my teddy bear. So deal with it, Amerikanski."

Alfred completely forgot about the last ring, now fully occupied by proving his ridiculous (yet adorable) boyfriend wrong.


	51. Hair

Hair

Amelia thinks a certain girl in her class has distracting hair.

Rated K.

College AU & Nyo!RusAme.

~o~

There was a girl in Amelia's class who annoyed the heck out of her. She was seated rather at the front of the auditorium, all by herself, and Amelia was constantly forced to stare at the back of her head. And what a head it was.

She had light blond, almost silvery hair, reaching down to her hips. It was usually held together in a ponytail or other sort of knot at the start of class, but somehow by the end of it, she'd always managed to undo it and let down her hair, like some wannabe Rapunzel.

Amelia constantly found herself distracted whenever the girl started undoing the knot. She was very meticulous about it. Using both hands to carefully undo the rubber band, she held one hand on the item while the other gingerly unwrapped her platinum bangs, as if she was handling something extremely delicate. Then the band went around her wrist, and she used both hands to comb down her hair until it had sufficiently flattened to her likings. After that she eased back and continued making notes, only now with those silvery bangs resting over the seat behind her, taunting Amelia.

Amelia didn't like it. Not only was it incredibly distracting, but how vain could you get?! Amelia herself only had shoulder-length curls, only just enough to make a sloppy ponytail at best. Which she never seemed to do nowadays, because what if the girl's antics somehow infected her and she would start to undo her tails in the midst of class as well? It would be terrible. Amelia didn't want to come across as conceited.

Blue eyes narrowed when they honed in on the very same girl, sitting right in the middle of the front row. Look—she was doing it again! And right as the teacher was staring at her! Had she no shame?

Amelia had a sudden realisation. What if…what if she had a crush on the teacher? What if, by constantly twirling her pretty little locks around a fine wrist, she hoped to seduce him? Amelia rolled her eyes, giving a little pitiful sigh. Poor girl. It was a pathetically desperate attempt at grabbing his attention. Which self-respecting teacher would fall for some silly girl constantly playing with her hair, those heavenly soft-looking shimmering threads of silver? Amelia imagined the girl running across a beach somewhere, hair dancing in the wind, a high girly laugh escaping her lips. She was rather faceless in her imagination, however, as Amelia really only got to see the back of her head. Which was a shame, really. Such a shame.

The next day, Amelia tried sitting a little closer. If she was going to let herself be distracted by the pretty-haired girl anyway, she might as well know what she looked and sounded like, the better to feed her own overly annoyed imagination. It wouldn't do to feel pity for someone of whom she didn't even know what they looked like.

She was playing with her hair again, but this time Amelia had a much better angle. Patiently putting down her pen, the blond waited for the process to be done. For the first time she got a glimpse of the other's face, as she half turned back in an attempt to get a better grip on her locks. Amelia could make out a pair of long eyelashes, a pale high-boned cheek, a lightly coloured eyebrow. All right, maybe she had a reason to be at least a little conceited. Because maybe, she at least fit the pretty part. It still annoyed Amelia to death though.

The day after that, Amelia moved even closer. There wasn't anybody else sitting here, since most deemed it too close to the front of the room. Amelia didn't care; she was a woman on a mission. She was going to find out what the other looked like. This task would have been a lot easier if Amelia remembered to pay attention to the other when she herself came rushing in last-minute and had to hurry to find a seat, or if her target stayed long enough after class was over for Amelia to cast a glance upon her features. Instead, they constantly seemed to miss one another, despite them having the same class. Despite Amelia now sitting so close she could almost touch that angelic hair.

Amelia was almost mesmerized as she once more witnessed the now familiar process. Oh, it still annoyed her, of course it did. But now, sitting so close as she did, it somehow became unbearable. The need to reach out and touch, pinch a strand between thumb and index finger, drag her hand down and down the delicate mane. It came so sudden, so unexpected. Amelia clenched her hands to fists and pushed them into her lap, a light blush staining her cheeks. She had only meant to find out what the other looked like, not…not this.

Amelia waited with beating heart for class to be over that day. She didn't catch anything the teacher said, simply staring down at her desk, wishing she had simply stayed in the back of the auditorium. She missed most of the daily process of undoing, until she suddenly got smacked in the face.

Amelia lurched back, barely keeping herself from letting out an inhuman screech. She didn't, if only for the hand suddenly covering her lips. The girl had finally turned around, and was now staring at her with a burning intensity. She put a fine finger to her lips, eyes flicking over to the teacher. Both waited with breath held until someone asked a question and he redirected his attention. Only then did the girl remove her hand, and quickly placed it against her other in an apologetic gesture.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there!" Her voice was merely a whisper, but Amelia could still clearly hear the heavily accented tones.

The blond blinked her blue eyes, for a moment stupefied. Then she let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head, feeling the blush return. "No—no problem. I don't usually sit at the front, I just…wanted to see the board better." As if her lenses had suddenly lost in strength. Amelia couldn't help herself, blabbing out the next part. "You have beautiful hair though."

The girl lit up in surprise, shyly touching a lock hanging by her ear. "You think? Thank you." She then held out her hand. "I am Anya, by the way. You can always remember me as the girl who hit you in the face with her hair."

Amelia let out a high-pitched giggle, quickly snapping her mouth shut when the teacher looked their way. She shot forward, grabbing the hand with uncontrolled strength—yet Anya didn't flinch; on the contrary, her smile only grew.

"Amelia. And you can hit me as many times as you'd like." She looked at the teacher again. "And uh…your crush is looking. Don't worry—" she quickly amended, watching Anya's face contort in surprise. "—I won't tell anyone."

Anya barked out a single laugh, no longer caring about getting caught; class was almost over anyway. "Me, a crush on the teacher? You must be joking! Why would you get that idea?"

Amelia instantly felt herself flush. She felt rather embarrassed now, being so wrong about the other. "S-sorry, I didn't…" She hackled to a stop when Anya leant in once again.

"No, I don't like the teacher. I'm more into blondes with freckles." And when she gave a playful little wink, Amelia felt about ready to pass out.

And even though that was barely the smoothest thing she had done in her life, Amelia always sat at the front of the class from then on. Not behind Anya, but right beside her, getting the best possible angle as she could possibly get.


	52. Aerobics

Aerobics

Amelia can't help making googly eyes at her aerobics instructor.

Rated T.

Human AU & Nyo!RusAme.

~o~

Amelia let out a dreamy sigh as the people beside her leant forward, touching the ground between their legs with sweaty fingertips, some having more difficulty at performing the task than others. Amelia herself was only partially leaning over; not because she couldn't do it, but because fully inclining would mean having to look away from the eye candy standing only a small ways before her.

Their aerobics instructor had the most divine ass she'd ever seen. The blonde had been making googly eyes for almost the entire session; admiring those sturdy hips, strong thighs showing from underneath the small tightly fitting shorts, the perfect curves barely hidden behind the sweat-soaked fabric. Oh, Amelia coveted, craved and longed, fingers twitching with the desire to touch the most magnificent ass she'd ever laid eyes on. If their instructor knew the true reason she was such an enthusiastic pupil, she'd definitely be asked to stop coming. But Amelia simply couldn't help herself. She was in too deep.

The blonde let out another sigh vaguely resembling a moan, quickly bowing her head when Anya —as was the instructor's name—looked between her wide-spread legs. Amelia instead regarded between her own tanned limbs, hoping no one standing next to hear would notice the flushed cheeks, or if they did, would link it to the intense workout they'd just finished up.

Amelia actually didn't prefer aerobics. She usually only came to the gym for the heavy equipment; the treadmill, some time on the cross-trainer, a bit of weight-lifting whenever she felt like it, crunches and sit-ups, and she always finished up with a couple of minutes on the home trainer. Working out made her feel healthy and strong, being able to work off all the binge-eating she often indulged herself in (those burgers weren't going to destroy any thighs on her watch). However, ever since the one Saturday she'd come to the gym a bit earlier than usual and had caught the aerobics-enthusiasts leaving their room…Anya hadn't left her mind ever since. Or at least, a part of Anya. A firm, touchable, divine part…

"And we are done for today," came the voice of the person Amelia had been thinking about that very moment, the woman clasping her hands together to give her pupils a small applause for their effort.

Amelia quickly snapped up straight, only now noticing that she'd been the only one bending over at that point. Cheeks flushing further, she jerkily moved over to her bag, trembling hands pulling free a bottle of Mountain Dew and taking big, greedy gulps. She was thirsty all right, albeit not exactly for water.

"Amelia?"

The girl almost jumped when she was suddenly addressed, quickly spinning on her heels to face the much taller tutor. Her gaze immediately fell from those inquiring eyes to the clothes, damp with perspiration, shirt sagging off one milky white shoulder, sticking to the woman's skin in other places. Her chest was slightly heaving from their previous activities, and _good God_ , Amelia had it so bad. The sweat trickling down her own neck felt like ice, a stark contrast to her overheating skin.

Anya smiled, cocking her head to one side, light violet eyes calculating. "I have noticed you have been coming a lot more often lately. Good." Amelia perceived that the last person besides them left, and they were now completely alone. "You have a healthy interest in aerobics, and I am sure you lead a healthy lifestyle otherwise."

Amelia found herself bobbing her head along almost robotically to those claims. "Uh, yeah!" she finally managed to croak, putting on a far too wide grin. "I've always liked coming to the gym, but recently I discovered my true passion!" Her heart was thumping rapidly inside its house, anxious yet excited.

Anya's smile deepened, and she took a step forward. Amelia almost forgot how to breathe when this brought their bodies all but flush together, Anya's sizeable chest brushing along Amelia's own. What—what was she—

"I have also noticed your…other interest."

Oh. Oh dear Lord. She'd been found out after all. But how? She'd been so careful to hide her hunger! How long had Anya known?

Amelia's mouth opened and closed a couple of times, no sound escaping the now dry lips. She licked them, tried again, let out a small yelp when Anya reached out and captured Amelia's hands in her own. And then she almost passed out when her instructor put her own hands right on top of the very cheeks she had been dying to touch for weeks now.

"And I would like to inform you that I could be persuaded to share that interest if you buy me a drink," the woman whispered into her ear, lazily giving a seductive wink.

Amelia never went to another aerobics class again after that day, but she _did_ find a new form of exercise to keep up the muscle-work.


	53. Handcuffed

Handcuffed

 **Being handcuffed to your best enemy can have its ups and downs.**

 **Rated T.**

~o~

Alfred and Ivan stared ahead of them expectantly, neither man moving a muscle. Alfred's left hand was still bound to Ivan's right, their limbs hanging awkwardly between them as they stood in front of the urinals, one stall between their figures.

"Dude, I am not starting before you're starting. I don't want you listening to me peeing."

"Neither do I comrade," Ivan replied with his lip drawn up in disgust.

"Well…then how 'bout we count to three? Then we unzip at the exact same moment and do—do our, you know, our thing. AND NO PEEKING."

"There will certainly be no peeking. Not for me at least."

Alfred's head shot to the side, him not having missed the hidden meaning. "Oh, as if you're so big! I don't believe it one single bit!"

Ivan smiled, showing his teeth. "Let us not digress. My bladder is in need of some relief."

"Eew, don't say that!" Alfred protested, making an expression that showed pure and utter disgust.

"Then, as you say it, 'get a move on'."

"Okay okay! So…one…two…three!"

They put in their best efforts of unzipping with only one free hand, and held their breath until they could let out a sigh of relief.

Alfred shuffled his feet for a bit, blushing as he automatically felt his eyes slip to the side and had to re-adjust his gaze. Next to him, Ivan wasn't doing much better. Besides being focused solely on the act, his eyes were closed and a deep frown creased his brow, showing this was the last place he wanted to be.

Oh well. At least he wasn't handcuffed to one of his sisters. Now _that_ would have been awkward.

And right before finishing up, he heard a squeak of surprise. Ivan's head shot up so fast he still caught Alfred trying to avert his gaze.

All right, Jones was dead.

…Unless the pretty blush tainting his cheeks meant he was impressed.


End file.
